Photo Collection

How Does Your Garden Grow? Imagining the Cemetery

Posted on Updated on

By Lauren Maddox

As Halloween comes and goes, our minds drift to the dark and the macabre–we can’t help but think about spooky skeletons, werewolves, witches, ghosts, and vampires or about what those figures really represent to us: death. Death isn’t something people like to think about very much. America, in particular, has always held death at arms length with only squeamish acknowledgement.

The Church began to regulate burials around the 7th century across Europe–rituals for the dead and dying became increasingly Christian, and burying bodies in consecrated ground became an important tenant for dealing with the dead. In these early days of Christian burial, bodies were buried in mass graves so that the bones could be exhumed and stored in ossuaries in the walls of the church. But, due to lack of space, eventually bodies began to be buried in the church yard. Graves would be marked with simple stones, or is some cases, wooden crosses, unless the family was able to afford a more complicated memorial for their loved ones.

The churchyard grave was thought to be a place under the protection of the Church– it was a safe place where loved ones could be guaranteed to pass into an easy afterlife. But as populations boomed and the Industrial Revolution’s dangerous growth and unadulterated industry began to accumulate a body count, the ideation of the churchyard began to change. Instead of being a place where one might visit their loved ones and feel comforted by their presence, they became places in which disease festered and spread. Floods would unearth the recently buried and rain that passed through the churchyard might become contaminated. The proximity of the churchyard burial ceased to be a comfort and became a source of anxiety too-close-to-home.

  • Map of St. Louis, MI in 1884. Click the link to see this map in our Digital Collections!
  • Detail from 1884 Map of St. Louis featuring the Bellefontaine Cemetery and the Calvary Cemetery.

Because of this, in the 19th century, the cemetery moved out of town. Death was an upsetting reality to have in your backyard for Americans, so cemeteries were moved away from the populated areas of the city and from the water supplies for the city. And, in a final symbolic gesture, cemeteries were gated to show that they were no longer part of the world of the living. Looking at these two late 19th century maps of St. Louis and Philadelphia, you can see how far out of town the cemeteries were moved for the safety and peace of mind of the living.

But, ironically, the cemetery also became like a public park. According to Keith Eggener, author of Cemeteries, cemeteries were free oases where people could escape the hustle and bustle of their city lives. People would bring picnics, bicycles, take strolls, and use the cemetery as a brief respite from daily life. They became immensely beautified– the cemetery was not only important as a place that separated the dead from the living, but also as a place that the living could visit at their leisure and leave again when they were satisfied.

We might be a little more comfortable with our cemeteries these days, but they’re still not going to be our ideal afternoon spot. But during Halloween season, when death is on our minds, it’s important to remember our relationship to the place where spooky skeletons and vampires reside. And maybe accept that those scary figures are pretty harmless– Savannah’s Bonaventure Cemetery is a beloved tourist destination, where people go to see the beautiful parks. But, remember– always “keep your distance, remain quiet and show respect for the dead.”

This entry was posted in Archival Collections, Lauren Maddox, Lauren's blog, Map Collection, Photo Collection and tagged , , , , .

October Pop-up Exhibit

Posted on Updated on

By Lauren Maddox

Happy Halloween! This month, the AGSL, UWM Archives, and Special Collections collaborated on another Pop-Up Exhibit! The official exhibit ran from October 23rd-25th and included specially curated pieces such as wood engravings of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein by Barry Moser and many more spooky, scary artifacts! Well, you may have missed the full Pop-up Exhibit but don’t despair! There’s still time to see the hair-raising picks put out by the AGSL for the pop-up– our exhibition materials will stay on display until after Halloween! Peruse our collection; you may find sea monsters, witches, and haunted cemeteries– and if that doesn’t scare you, stay tuned for next week’s post which will feature some of the most spine-chilling, blood-curdling maps from this month’s Pop-Up!

The AGSL is open to the public Monday through Friday, 8 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Come see us and the Halloween Pop-up Exhibit while you still can!

This entry was posted in Archival Collections, Atlases, Exhibits, Lauren Maddox, Lauren's blog, Map Collection, Photo Collection and tagged , , .

Western Photograph Collection

Posted on Updated on

by Angie Cope

The AGS Library has a collection of albumen prints and stereoscopic slides by the photographers of the four great western surveys. These works include: 64 prints by William Henry Jackson, photographer with the Hayden Survey of Yellowstone, the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, and the Moqui Indian Pueblos of Arizona; 6 prints of the Grand Canyon region by John K. Hillers, photographer with the Powell Survey; 49 prints and stereoscopic slides by William Bell, photographer with the Wheeler Survey; and 441 prints and stereoscopic slides by Timothy O’Sullivan, photographer with the King and Wheeler Surveys. Also included in this collection are 54 mammoth size prints of Yosemite by Eadweard J. Muybridge and 76 prints by Carleton E. Watkins.

A group of educators are coming in for a scheduled tour giving us a great chance to see some of these beautiful photographs.

This entry was posted in Photo Collection and tagged , , , , , .

In Case You Missed Us: The National Hispanic Heritage Month Pop-Up Exhibit

Posted on Updated on

By Lauren Maddox

Last month, I wrote about our then-upcoming Pop-Up Exhibit in celebration of National Hispanic Heritage Month. The exhibit was a collaborative project in conjunction with the UWM Archives to showcase some of our collections and honor this very special month. As we move into October, we will be putting up another exciting exhibit (stay tuned for more on that later!), but in case you missed this pop-up, here are some of the digital versions of pieces we featured in the exhibit:

And some photos of the exhibit live and in-person:

Stay tuned for more updates about future exhibits!

This entry was posted in Archival Collections, Exhibits, Georgia Brown, Lauren Maddox, Lauren's blog, Manuscript maps, Map Collection, Photo Collection and tagged , , , .

The Case of Turpan, China: How to Destroy a Culture

Posted on Updated on

by Don Hanlon, Emeritus Professor of Architecture, UW-Milwaukee

In 1987, I conducted a survey of vernacular architecture in the oasis of Turpan in Xinjiang Province, in the far west of the Peoples Republic of China.  The project was funded by the United Nations Development Program in response to my initial report to the UNDP in 1985 that this ancient architectural tradition was being systematically destroyed as part of a vigorous effort by the Chinese government to eradicate the indigenous culture of the Uighur people. The Uighur have lived in Turpan continuously for over 1100 years. My role was to document, in photographs and drawings, the architecture of the town as it related to Uighur social customs and other aspects of culture before they were annihilated. As of this writing, the Chinese government has demolished all of the Uighur domestic and religious architecture in Turpan except for a few examples preserved as tourist attractions.

Turpan, view of the oasis. Photograph by Donald Hanlon, 1987.

For centuries, Turpan was an important node on the Silk Road for merchants traversing the hostile Taklamakan desert in central Asia. The Uighur were originally a powerful Turkic-speaking tribe which over time absorbed cultural influences from the many different people who passed through their domain. For example, important architectural characteristics, music and dance show strong influences from Persia and the region of central Asia to the west known as Transoxiana, an area that was home to the great cities of the Mongol empire, such as Samarkand and Bukhara. The Uighur practice a form of Sunni Islam, but due to their heterogeneous population, religious practice and Islamic social conventions are moderate and tolerant.

Family resting between street and canal. Photograph by Donald Hanlon, 1987.

Despite a harsh climate of extreme heat and zero rainfall, trade and agriculture in Turpan have thrived due to an innovative hydrological innovation imported many centuries ago from Persia. This is the system of kareze which are subterranean aqueducts that bring water to the oasis from the foothills of the Tian Shan mountain range to the north. The kareze are tunnels dug far below the desert surface, carefully engineered to maintain a constant shallow slope to prevent erosion. Thus, Turpan enjoys clean, cold water year-round for both domestic and agricultural use. A 1943 map of Turpan by a Japanese spy shows the kareze as dotted lines (courtesy of the American Geographical Society Library).

Close up view of map held in the AGS Library.

The kareze open into a system of canals in the town that form the boundaries between streets and residences. Tall, straight poplars grow in tight rows directly out of the canals. These perform several important functions: they provide deep shade for the houses and for the street; they create a wind break to control dust; they provide wood readily available for construction and heating; and they create a microclimate in the street by transpiring water through their leaves into the air, producing a natural means of air conditioning that can lower the temperature in the street and adjacent houses by as much as 20 degrees Fahrenheit. After circulating through the town entirely by gravity, water then enters into second system of canals for irrigating agriculture. All of this is accomplished without any mechanical devices or artificial sources of energy – a truly sustainable method.

Turpan, sketch of a cross section of the kareze (subterranean aqueduct). Sketch by Donald Hanlon, 1987.
Canal in Turpan, Photograph by Donald Hanlon 1987.

My study included two types of architecture under threat – houses and mosques. The house form in use in Turpan for many centuries was typical of vernacular houses we find in an arc from Morocco, across north Africa, the Middle East to central Asia. It organizes all domestic spaces around a central courtyard, which functions as the main living space of the house. This design is a highly efficient, sustainable building form, perfectly suited to a hot, dry climate without using any mechanical means to artificially heat or cool. The house operates on a diurnal cycle.  At night, cool air settles in the courtyard while heat captured during the day in the thick surrounding walls radiates into the night air. During daylight, the gradually heating mass of the house draws the cool air of the courtyard into surrounding interior spaces.  In Turpan, a thick grape arbor over the courtyard enhanced this passive cooling system by breaking direct sunlight while allowing the passage of air.

Turpan, typical street. Photography by Donald Hanlon, 1987.

Another important characteristic of the vernacular house in Turpan was a construction technology based on sun-dried mud brick coupled with simple wood framing using the poplars – materials that were 100% organic, non-toxic, biodegradable, re-usable and required no fossil fuels for processing and transport. This was effective for two reasons: first, materials were available immediately to hand, inexpensive or free; second, the method of building was easily conveyed through an oral tradition of instruction and simple enough that just about anyone was capable of building their own house. As an architect, I was delighted to find myself in a town full of designers and builders of all ages enjoying the freedom to determine for themselves how they were to live.

Turpan, the privacy gradient. Sketch by Donald Hanlon, 1987.

In addition to its entirely rational environmental attributes, the typical traditional house in Turpan served to organize and control social relations between members of the family it sheltered and the rest of the community. My study revealed a “privacy gradient” by which a sequence of simple spaces through the house and into the street produced a range of social settings in which people of varying relationships could interact informally or formally depending on circumstances or a person’s status in relation to the family. In this respect, the privacy provided by a house functioned in concert with the public life of the street rather than in opposition to it. There were eight social settings organized linearly in sequence: the public street; a short, wide bridge over the canal in front of the house; a narrow yard between the canal and the front wall of the house; a monumental gate that created a private room open to the street but separated from it by a canal; an interior street bounded by service spaces; the courtyard; a second floor mezzanine overlooking the courtyard; and finally the family’s entirely private interior spaces.

A family in their house gateway. Photograph by Donald Hanlon, 1987

There were two types of mosques in Turpan: small ones serving neighborhoods and one large congregational mosque serving the entire community.  Most of the small mosques vanished when the neighborhoods they served were destroyed. Similar to the one shown here, the neighborhood mosque typically employed an ornate entry gate on the street, then a narrow passage leading to a simple, often open-air prayer hall. Note in this example of a decorative gate, the plastered brick minarets marking the corners of the building have bases in the shape of pots. This motif harks back to the form of much older, extinct precedents in which the minarets were made of bundles of reeds. These were set in pots of water to protect them from insects.  The ancient, traditional form in a fragile material persisted in a later durable material.

Neighborhood mosque entry, Turpan. Photograph by Donald Hanlon, 1987.

The monumental mosque of Turpan was the Amin Hodja Mosque built in 1776 and sited at the edge of town. The main body of the building is plastered brick while the 144-foot tower is exposed fired brick in a design typical of towers still to be found in Iran and Transoxiana.  An interesting feature of this example is that it serves three purposes simultaneously.  First, it can be used as a minaret from the top of which a muezzin would call the faithful to prayer; second, it is a tomb-tower marking the location of the tombs of its patron and his father at the base; and third, it may have been used as a lighthouse, since even a small fire at its top could have guided caravans to the oasis from many miles away. The main building also had a dual purpose. The size of its central hall suggests that it once accommodated a large congregation of worshipers while the surrounding cubic cells were used as a madrassa, or a koranic school, with boys to the right side and girls to the left. Curiously, the plan, with ranks of double cells surrounding an open center, is virtually the same as that for a typical caravanserai, which was a medieval fortified hostel for traveling merchants. A merchant would marshal his animals in a central, unroofed space and set up temporary housekeeping in one of the pair of peripheral cells – his baggage in the outside cell and his sleeping space facing the center space. Long ago, these hostels appeared at intervals of a one-day march along the entire Silk Road. Though this building was definitely intended as a mosque from its inception, it is interesting to see in the Islamic tradition how a particular plan type could accommodate different functions, in this case both religious and commercial. Though this beautiful building has not been destroyed, it was stripped of its religious function and insensitively “restored” to serve as a theme park requiring tourists to pay admission.

Amin Hodja mosque plan. Sketch by Donald Hanlon, 1987.
Amin Hodja Mosque tower, Turpan. Photograph by Donald Hanlon, 1987.

As we can readily see, the vernacular architecture of Turpan functioned as the physical armature of Uighur culture and a clear indicator of a durable, transparent social structure. The destruction of this architecture meant the fatal weakening of traditional social relations and finally the destruction society as a whole. It is clearly apparent that this was understood by the Chinese government as a means to eradicate the Uighur as a distinct ethnic group and institute a total surveillance state in Xinjiang province. In addition to other methods of control, destruction of mosques was critical to the suppression of Islam.  Also, the systematic destruction the Uighur house, which served as the basic building block of urban civic life in Turpan, resulted in the destruction of the family unit, weakening the extended family, neighborhoods and broader communal relations.

New housing in Xinjiang, China.

In the ruins of traditional neighborhoods, tall, impersonal concrete structures now rise, with hot, airless cells dependent on fossil fuels for ventilation and lighting. This act of ethnic cleansing eliminated the ability of the Uighur of Turpan to decide for themselves how to live by stripping them of their freedom to build. The result is the atomization of a community, reducing it to no more than alienated individuals, susceptible to manipulation and indoctrination and entirely reliant upon an alien regime that compels them to be obedient above all.

Laundry hanging from new housing in Turpan. Photography by Donald Hanlon 1987.

Last week Emeritus Professor Don Hanlon was the Academic Adventurers speaker at the AGS Library. The title of his talk “The Case of Turpan, China: How to Destroy a Culture” highlighted the village of Turpan and what has happened to it over the decades. He wrote this article as a guest blogger.

To view more of the nearly 300 photographs and sketches that Donald Hanlon recently donated to the AGS Library, visit the AGSL Digital Photograph Collection.

This entry was posted in Map Collection, Photo Collection and tagged , , , , , , , , .

Fair and Square: A Short History of World’s Fairs

Posted on Updated on

By Lauren Maddox

In 1984, Louisiana hosted a World’s Fair celebrating “The World of Rivers.” It was the last World’s Fair in the U.S. And it was the most financially disastrous fair in the history of World’s Fairs. To be fair, the point of hosting World’s Fairs and Expositions was never to make money– most host countries had to shell out exorbitant amounts of money to finance their fairs. But the point of the World’s Fair was never to make money; instead, these fairs were celebrations of progress and a chance to impress the international community. Host countries never expect to make a profit off of the Fair, but the 1984 Fair was particularly draining– it was the only Fair to ever go bankrupt.

But before the 1984 fair, the U.S. had a rich history as a member of the International Bureau of Exhibitions– they’ve hosted 30 World’s Fairs since their first in 1829. And before that?

The tradition of the World’s Fair is based heavily on French national expositions– but the first was actually hosted in Prague in 1791. This exposition was before World’s Fairs were standardized and regulated by the Bureau of International Expositions. These early expositions had their roots in Medieval festivals, and quickly became a way for post-revolution France to unite their new republic. The industry-focused expos continued under Napoleon but still focused on French products.

The exposition most commonly cited as the first international affair is London’s Great Exposition in 1851. This World’s Fair was iconic– its great Crystal Palace became the symbol of World’s Fairs for years to come and continues to be one of the most quintessential Victorian structures.

In 1928, the Bureau of International Expositions (Bureau international des expositions) was established in order to oversee and approve of expo arrangements internationally and to set standards for expositions across nations. 170 countries are currently members of the BIE– including the United States. The BIE has remained in charge of international expositions ever since.

The nature of World’s Fairs have changed drastically since their Medieval beginnings– these fairs began as a way to unite communities, national and international, and then became an opportunity for countries to showcase their industrial prowess and establish themselves on the global stage.

The 1984 exposition signaled the end of an era for World’s Fairs. It wasn’t just the last Fair to be hosted on American soil– it was also one of the first environmentally focused specialized expos. No longer are World’s Fairs an opportunity to flex wealth and status; instead, new expos are interested in environmentalism, building a sustainable future, and the building of a more united global community.

The United States withdrew membership from the BIE in 2002, but in 2017 rejoined. And maybe, in the near future, we can expect another Fair, as part of America’s long legacy of World’s Fairs, looking forward into a bright future.

This entry was posted in Archival Collections, Ephemera Collection, Lauren Maddox, Lauren's blog, Map Collection, Photo Collection and tagged , , , , , , .

The New Northwest Passage: Tourism through the Arctic

Posted on Updated on

By Lauren Maddox

At the beginning of the summer, I did a series of posts discussing some of the AGSL’s connections to Arctic exploration and the famous explorers of that age (or, more accurately, the scandalous love lives of those explorers). But the Northwest Passage is still a part of the public’s romantic imagination– it’s a largely untraversable and unexplored wild full of cold beauty. And the fact that a Northwest Passage has been a geographical mystery for so many generations of Western explorers doesn’t hurt. As shrinking sea ice opens new routes through the storied Northwest Passage, more and more ships are passing through. Shipping freights are taking advantage of the new possible alternative to the Panama Canal for pan-oceanic travel– but in 2016, the first cruise ship passed through the Northwest Passage on a 28-day cruise through the Arctic.

The Northwest Passage has been the subject of years of conjecture and speculation for European travelers–there is even some evidence that Vikings traveled to the Arctic and traded with indigenous peoples before the Little Ice Age. Early attempts to discover a true Northwest Passage were spearheaded the English; Henry VII sent John Cabot on a search for a direct route to Asia that could be used for more open trading in 1497. Several later explorers followed suit: Estaban Gomez in 1524, Martin Frobisher in 1576, Humphrey Gilbert in 1583, and on and on into the next two centuries.

Explorers were also interested in finding alternative entry routes into the Passage– if they couldn’t traverse the Northwest Passage in its entirety, then maybe they could find another way onto the path. In 1539, Francisco De Ulloa embarked on an expedition to sail around the Baja California Peninsula– you might remember this from my July post about the island of California. Besides confirming the fact that California is indeed an island (just kidding), Ulloa also believed that the strait between California and the mainland would lead to an accessible Northwest Passage.

Many of these expeditions ended in tragedy– the truth was, at the time, there was no reliable pathway through the ice for ships to take. Routes that might be clear in one season would be completely frozen in another. Ships would often become stuck in the ice and forced to winter over where they were or abandon ship. In the 19th century, another rush of Arctic exploration swept Europe and the United States. In an earlier post, I go into some detail about the lost Franklin expedition and the scramble to discover their fate. This was one tragic ending of many expeditions– even Elisha Kent Kane’s rescue expedition in search of Franklin ended in a narrow escape from the deadly winter after which Kane’s health never recovered. Many thought that a purely ship-based expedition would never be possible; John Rae, the man who discovered the true fate of Franklin and his men, made many overland expeditions exploring the continent by using techniques already honed by native peoples who had managed to live there since, well, before the Vikings came to trade with them.

The Northwest Passage would prove impenetrable by ship until 1906, when Roald Amundsen and his six-person crew made a three-year journey through the icy waters in a tiny herring boat. His route through the Rae Strait was full of fairly young ice that was navigable and breakable, but the waters were shallow and only a small boat like the Gjøa could have made the trip.

As time passed and our climate has changed, the sea ice that prevented so many travelers from passing through the Northwest Passage has been shrinking. The Earth’s poles are more susceptible to the effects of climate change, and so the Arctic is warming at a faster rate than the rest of the world. The sea ice normally freezes and melts throughout the year, but the maximum coverage of the ice in winter has been shrinking at an alarming rate. This has some pretty huge implications for the state of our world, but has also led to an uptick in arctic tourism.

Because of the melting sea ice, larger boats can pass through the Northwest Passage. During the most recent Arthur Holzeimer Lecture at the AGSL, speaker Lauren Beck commented that, for the first time in history, the Northwest Passage of European imagination has become reality. Only because of the quickly degrading sea ice is the Northwest Passage actually a traversable ship passage.

Amundsen’s successful trip through the Northwest Passage did not turn it into an icy thoroughfare– the ice was still too much of a problem for large cargo ships and the water often dangerously shallow. In 2012, two astonishing events happened: arctic sea ice hit record lows, and ship passage through the Northwest Passage hit record highs. The Panama-Canal was still the better, more consistent choice for trans-ocean shipments, but the new open waterways inspired a different kind of ship-traffic.

In 2016, the Crystal Serenity made an unprecedented voyage through the Northwest Passage; though not the first, it was the largest cruise ship to ever pass through the Northwest Passage. The cruise ship had to be escorted by a Polar-Grade ship that could break the ice for the cruise ship to pass though– or perform a rescue. While Crystal Cruises proudly took the Serenity through the Northwest Passage on multiple voyages for “true explore[s]” and is expecting the delivery of a Polar-Grade ship for more cruises, there is some concern about what tourism in the Arctic really means.

For one thing, the communities living there don’t have the infrastructure to deal with the influx of people and garbage. Townships are overwhelmed even by limited groups of tourists visiting. And the effect that human interference has on local flora and fauna– never mind the impending catastrophic oil or fuel spill that seems inevitable with increased traffic– can have deadly consequences for local indigenous communities.

  • Photo of the Crystal Serenity in Antwerp

For many people, Arctic tourism is a “last-chance” to see an environment that might be on the brink of destruction. And while it is true that experiencing the Arctic has inspired many to defend it from climate destruction, the increased number of ships creates an increased risk of disaster for the environment, the people who live there, and even the tourists themselves. But ignoring the real possibility of climate disaster (or a shipwreck stranding hundreds of tourists on the Arctic Ocean), Arctic tourism also has a troubling philosophical component. Last-chance tourism forces us to think about the destruction of our natural world and how we want to face it. Do we want to put it at potential risk for the chance that tourists become potential activists? Or do we protect it from commercial interference as long as possible?

The answers to these questions are unclear, but as the Arctic tourism industry grows, the search for answers becomes more urgent.

This entry was posted in Archival Collections, Lauren Maddox, Lauren's blog, Map Collection, Nautical charts, Photo Collection and tagged , , , , .

Freshwater People: An Exhibit on Lake Tourism by Georgia Brown

Posted on Updated on

By Lauren Maddox

This week, the AGSL is unveiling a new featured exhibit designed by Graduate Student Intern Georgia Brown. This exhibit, which is focused on freshwater tourism and recreation, features a selection of pieces from our collections including postcards, maps, and rare, vintage travel books.

Brown has been a Graduate Student Intern with the AGSL since May 2018 (you might remember her from last month’s feature!) The exhibit is part of a final project for Brown’s Independent Study with the AGSL’s curator Marcy Bidney, which focused on cartographic resources in libraries.

Here are few photos from the Freshwater People: An Exhibit on Freshwater Tourism:

This exhibit is available and open to the public now! We encourage you to come see it in person– and enjoy the rest of the AGSL’s collections while you’re here! The AGSL is open Monday-Friday, 8:00-4:30. Please come and see us!

This entry was posted in Archival Collections, Exhibits, Georgia Brown, Lauren Maddox, Lauren's blog, Map Collection, Photo Collection and tagged , , , .

Imperial Russian Nautical Charts of the Black Sea Atlas at the AGSL Part I

Posted on Updated on

By Josephine Miller

The Crimean War: Loss of the Black Sea Fleet and Reform

Nicholas I from A Popular History of Russia From the Earliest Times to 1882 by Alfred Rimbaud in the AGSL Rare Book Collection. Click the link for more information!

Tsar Alexander II (1818-1881) ascended to the throne on February 19 1855. He succeeded his father Tsar Nicholas I, who died at the age of 58 while Russia was losing the Crimean War (1853-1856). The war was fought between the Russian Empire and the alliance of the Ottoman Empire, Great Britain, France, and Sardinia. Alexander II came to the throne at the age of 36 at the end of the war. In the beginning of his reign, the young tsar was forced to face to the defeat of the Russian Empire. The Treaty of Paris was signed on March 30 1856, officially ending the Crimean War.

In the treaty, Russia ceded the mouth of the Danube and some of Bessarabia to the Ottomans. Additionally, Russia accepted the neutralization of the Black Sea.  Neutralization meant not maintaining a navy or coastal fortifications in the Black Sea. In addition, Russia withdrew from the Danube Principalities of Moldavia and Wallachia and accepted an international commission to oversee navigation of the Danube. Russia also forfeited its claim as protectorate of Orthodox Christians in the Holy Land and in the Ottoman Empire. The Crimean War was a great defeat for the Russian Empire, so much so that one rumor circulated that Nicholas I had poisoned himself. The war signified the decline of Russia’s influence in Southeastern Europe and the Near East. [1] As Russia was losing the war and Nicholas I approached death, he requested his funeral to be modest and the period of mourning to be as brief as possible. [2]

The defeat of Crimea was pivotal moment for Russian history. Notably, the Black Sea has historically been of great political importance for Russia, given its warm water ports. The defeat made a deep impression on the young Tsar Alexander II.  He began his reign having to deal with the consequences of his father’s reign. Nicholas I had been a conservative autocrat who believed it was his sacred duty to uphold tradition. Under Nicolas I, Russia remained frozen in time. His rule is regarded as a conservative reaction to the Enlightenment. This reaction or rejection is best explained by his doctrine on Official Nationality (Теория официальной народности), which was based on the Triad “orthodoxy, autocracy, and nationalism” (Православие, самодержавие, народность).


Russian Light Cavalry from A Popular History of Russia

The conservative disposition of Nicholas I is seen as the primary reason for the defeat in Crimea by the reformers. Before the war, Russia and its military enjoyed the positive reputation it had earned in its victory over Napoleon.  However, while Nicholas I focused on upholding the tradition of the Triad, the West advanced scientifically and militarily. Consequently, when the war broke out, Russia faced the more advanced and modern armies of the West. The war revealed how lacking and inefficient the Russian military was in comparison to the West.  The inefficient  bureaucracy of the military, the lack of modern technology, and corruption were all examples of the inadequacies of the military.  The outdated Russian military was frozen in the Napoleonic era, while the Allies had advanced into the Victorian era.

The industrialization in the West created a technological gap between Russia and the West, in particular, Russia and Great Britain. Great Britain was Russia’s primary imperial rival at the time.  Technologically, the world had changed quickly in the middle of the 19th century.  The period saw new technological innovations such as railroads, telegraphs, improved steam engines, and improvements in steel and iron. Significantly, Great Britain had the capability to import food and raw materials from around the world, allowing the mass production of consumer goods. Furthermore, the expanding of education in Western society accommodated this industrialization; Russia, on the other hand, lagged behind in all of these areas.

HMS Diamond Naval Brigade from A Visit to the Camp Before Sevestapol by Richard C. McCormick in the AGSL Rare Book Collection. Click the link for more information!

Lagging behind proved to be Russia’s disadvantage in the war. The fighting in the Crimean War revealed these disadvantages in the Russian military. Russia’s fleet of sailing ships could not fight against the steamships of Britain and France. Moreover, the Russian military relied on serfs for soldiers.  Serfs could not provide the needed gunpowder and shells for battle. Ultimately, Russian soldiers marched into battle with smoothbore muskets, only to face the long-range artillery fire of the allies. [3]

In the aftermath of Crimea, reform found supporters from both the Slavophiles and the pro-Western factions.  Both had been greatly upset by the defeat. The Slavophiles saw war against the Ottomans as a crusade for Orthodox Christianity and for Constantinople. Whereas, the Westernizers were dismayed by Russia losing its preeminent status as a European power that it had earned after the Napoleonic wars.

The Black Sea: The Crimean War from The Cambridge Modern History Atlas Accessed through the University of Texas Libraries. Click the link for more information!

Alexander II began his reign as a proponent of reform, both militarily and politically.  His most famous reform was the abolishment of serfdom, earning him the title the Tsar-Liberator or Alexander the Liberator.  Alexander II was not the first tsar that wanted to end serfdom, but the Crimean War provided the opportunity.  The serf army proved to be ineffective.  If Russia were to modernize it would need to industrialize, which would also include a citizen army.   The institution of serfdom inhibited both modernization and industrialization. Serfdom kept the Russian economy agrarian and stifled the innovation needed for industrialism.  In the following decade, Alexander II enacted political and military reforms in order to modernize Russia and its military.

Portrait of Alexander II in The Story of Russia by W.R. Morfilln in the AGSL Rare Book Collection. Click the link for more information!

Revival of the Black Sea Fleet

Nonetheless, the treaty of Paris limited naval ambition due to the demilitarization stipulation in the treaty.  Opportunity would arise in 1870s for the Black Sea Fleet. On September 1, 1870, Emperor Napoleon III surrendered to Prussia.  During the Franco-Prussian War, Russian remained officially neutral. However, according to the memoirs of Count Dmitry Milyutin, Field Marshall and Minister of War Alexander II sent St. George Crosses to Prussian officers and a congratulatory telegram to King Wilhelm I after Prussian victory. Notably, Wilhelm I was the maternal uncle of Alexander II.  Additionally, Russian officers served in the Prussian army. [4]

The Franco-Prussian War led to the establishment of the German Empire. Upon unification, King Wilhelm I of Prussia became German Emperor. Otto von Bismarck, Chancellor of the new German Empire, wanted to gain favor with Russia due to the mutual threat of Polish nationalism. Bismarck sent Count Constantin von Alvensleben to Russia in order to come to an agreement on cooperation against Polish rebellion. [5]  


Black Sea Fleet in the Bay of Theodosia, just before the Crimean War, 1890, Ivan Aivazovsky,
Feodosiya National Gallery I. K. Aivazovsky

German rapprochement aided Russia in a more important foreign policy objective for Russia: the Black Sea.  In 1870, Prince Alexander Gorchakov, Foreign Minister, used France’s defeat to denounce the Black Sea clause of the Treaty of Paris (1856).  Gorchakov’s denouncement included the refusal to uphold the clause.  In his justification, Gorchakov cited to Turkey violations of the treaty and he argued that the conditions of warfare have become more dangerous since 1856 due to the more destructive armaments.  Bismarck supported Gorchakov on the Black Sea clause. Though Britain protested, the European powers agreed to it through the Treaty of London in 1871, which abrogated the Black Sea clause of the Treaty of Paris. This allowed Russia to rebuild the Black Sea Fleet and military fortifications on the Black Sea. [6]

Egor Pavlovich Manganari (Егор Павлович Манганари)

The Atlas of the Black Sea (Атлас Чёрного Моря) was published between 1841 and1842. The surveying for the atlas was led by Captain-Lieutenant Egor Manganari (1796-1868). He was the eldest son of Panayot Manganari, (also known as Pavel Manganari in Russian). Panayot Manganari was a Greek nobleman and immigrant to the Russian Empire from the Greek island Chios. He immigrated to Russia due to conflict with the Ottomans, taking advantage of the Catherine the Great’s invitation to settle Greeks in the Southern Russian Empire. He married Alexandra Timofeevna and they had six children: three daughters, Maria, Ekaterina, and Anastasia, and three sons who served as officers in the Black Sea Fleet, Egor, Ivan, and Mikhail.  The family first lived in Yevpatoriya and later in Nikolayev. [7]

Egor Manganari served in the Black Sea Fleet of the Imperial Russian Navy as a naval officer and hydrographer.  He attended the Black Sea Navigational School in Nikolayev. There he studied Russian, English, classical subjects, and subjects related to geography such as mathematics, geodesy, navigation, and cartography.[8]

In 1813, he entered the Black Sea Fleet as a Navigation Assistant. By 1816, he received the rank of First Officer Midshipman and was later promoted to Lieutenant in 1821. He was appointed commander of the rig Nikolai (Николай) where he produced an inventory the Dnieper Estuary and the Bug River. His work was highly praised, earning him the Order of Saint Anna, 3rd Class, and the commission to survey the Azov and Black Sea. He commanded the Nikolai until 1827, when he received the command of the yacht Golubka (Голубка). The expedition of the Black Sea was launched in 1826 and continued for ten years.  Manganari still participated in the Russo-Turkish War (1828–29), for which he was awarded the Order of Saint Vladimir, 4th Class. In 1833-1834, during the Caucasian War, he also did hydrographic surveys of the Caucasus, for which he was awarded the Order of Saint Stanislav, 2nd class. [9]

By 1838, he had been promoted to lieutenant-colonel and completed his survey of the Black Sea and Azov Sea.  His nautical charts were supported by the Admiral Mikhail Lazarev, Commander of the Black Sea Fleet. After the Black Sea expedition concluded, he was granted permission by the Navy to publish them. The nautical charts were brought to Saint Petersburg to be engraved and published as an atlas. After the publication of the atlas, Manganari was awarded the Order of Saint George, 4th class. Manganari continued to do hydrographic surveying of the Black Sea after the publication of the atlas. In 1849, he received the rank of major-general and was appointed as the director of the Lighthouses of the Black Sea and Azov Sea. Manganari remained at that post until he retired in 1856. [10] [11]

[1] Nicholas V. Riasanovsky and Mark D. Steinberg, A History of Russia, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 333-336.

[2] Kaputina, Tatiana Aleksandrovna. “Nicholas I.” In The Emperors and Empresses of Russia: Rediscovering the Romanovs, (Armonk, New York: M. E. Sharpe), 292.

[3] Russia in the Nineteenth Century: Autocracy, Reforms, and Social Change, 1814-1914, (Armonk, New York: M.E. Sharpe) 85.  

[4] Ibid. 161.

[5] Nicholas V. Riasanovsky and Mark D. Steinberg, A History of Russia, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 380.

[6] Russia in the Nineteenth Century Autocracy, Reforms, and Social Change, 1814-1914, (Armonk, New York: M.E. Sharpe) 161.

[7] Выдающиеся морские гидрографы братья Манганари. Часть I. Николаевский Базар. [Outstanding Marine Hydrograph Brothers. Part I, Nikolayev Bazar].

[8] Ibid.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Üçsu, Kaan. “Cartographies of the ‘Eastern Question’: Some Considerations on Mapping the Sea of Marmara and the Black Sea in the Nineteenth Century.” In Philosophy of Globalization, (Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter, 2018) 259-260.

This entry was posted in Archival Collections, Atlases, Map Collection, Nautical charts, Photo Collection and tagged , , , , .

“A New World of Pleasure”: The 105th Anniversary of the Panama Canal

Posted on Updated on

By Lauren Maddox

On August 15, 1914 the United States officially opened the Panama Canal. It took thirty-three years for the construction to come to fruition; France began building the Canal in 1881, but were unable to carry the project forward. Workers were dying and the engineers hit roadblock after roadblock. The United States took over the project in 1904.

European colonists have had ideas about the Panama Canal since 1513; Vasco Nunez de Balboa crossed the Isthmus of Panama and wondered about a water-passage shortcut for ships crossing the Atlantic and Pacific. But imagination ran past ability, and the technology needed for such an undertaking would not be developed until the 19th century. France began the initial efforts. The project was led by canal engineer Ferdinand de Lesseps. But amid the disease and trouble financing the project, they were only able to complete half of the canal. As soon as the project was abandoned, the US expressed interest in the picking it up again, but US involvement with the Panama Canal was unpopular at home. French failure to complete the project was disheartening and the Colombian government was unenthused about the idea of an American canal to say the least.

For the US to be granted the rights to continue work on the canal, some political finagling was required. Philippe-Jean Bunau-Varilla, a businessman and engineer who had financed the original attempt, stood to lose his investment if the canal was left unfinished. He began lobbying US lawmakers and encouraging Panamanian independence movements which would prevent Colombian interference with US building efforts. It didn’t hurt that the US maintained an active military presence during the building to discourage conflict. American engineers also moved away from the original plans for a sea-level canal and began work on a lock-controlled canal which would would help them avoid the building problems the French had. Advancements in healthcare for workers and a new focus on mosquito control also helped save workers from catching the diseases that had killed so many during French construction.

The AGSL has an extensive collection of materials on the Panama Canal. Theodore Roosevelt, a longtime friend and council member of the AGS until his presidency forced him to resign, was a great proponent of the canal. And the one of AGS’s own directors, Isaiah Bowman, made several trips to South America during his doctoral work and beyond, and championed efforts to create a map of “Hispanic America” as part of the international map of the world. Bowman, a controversial figure who was a known antisemite, contributed a large portion of the AGSL’s records on the Panama Canal. His particular interest in South America made the way for revolutionary cartographic work in the area, and the continued AGS sponsored expeditions are named for him.

Work on the lock-controlled canal began in 1904, when the US was officially granted the rights to build by the newly-independent Panamanians. The French ship Alexandre la Valley made the first test-crossing of the canal in January 1914. Construction began winding down; pop-up towns were demolished, workers were laid off, and more permanent governance of the canal was established. A grand opening celebration was planned– but when World War I broke out, the festivities were downsized to something more modest. On August 15, 1914 the SS Ancon made the first official crossing, marking the grand opening of the Panama Canal. No international officials attended the opening, so George Washington Goethals, engineer and first governor of the Canal Zone, tracked the ships progress by train. The AGSL has several maps of the Panama Canal before and after its opening. Since its first ship-crossing, the Panama Canal has only grown; Panama took ownership of the canal in 1977, new construction began in 2007, and annual traffic has risen to nearly a million crossings.

This entry was posted in Archival Collections, Lauren Maddox, Lauren's blog, Map Collection, Photo Collection and tagged , , , .