I. AIM and OUTLINE目的と概要

・イギリスの公式地図は、政府測量局Ordnance Survey Officeが測量し地図作製している。その歴史を同局の公式出版物からと、最新の研究から紹介する。

(1) Points of Argument議論の視点

・17世紀のイギリス王政府には陸軍Armyや海軍Navyとともに軍需部Office of Ordnanceがあり、1791年、その中に測量局Ordnance Survey が設置され、全国測量事業を始めたことになっているが、最近の研究では重要な前史があったことが指摘されている。

・18世紀始めの海軍には水域測量Hydrographic Officeがあり、国家による陸域測量は遅れた。水域測量に対して、Ordnance Surveyは陸地測量と訳されているが、これは正しくはない。Ordnance Surveyとその成果物である地図は、それぞれ政府測量局と測量局地図 と呼ぶべきものである。また、Hydrographic Surveyも水路測量ではなく、水域測量である。

・イギリスの国土測量事業は、18世紀前半のスコットランドの法曹界の大物であるロバート・ダンダスがその成立に大きな役割を果たした。このダンダスは精緻精確な地図に大変興味を持ち、自宅に膨大な関係資料を集めていた。妻の弟のデヴィッド・ワトソンが数学に秀でていることを知ると、彼に測量学を修めさせ、ジャコバイトの反乱が続くスコットランドで、測地測量（高低差、地形、地目、植生などを表記）を推進した。このデヴィットは陸軍に工兵として入隊し、測地測量をウィリアム・ロイと組織した。このダンダスの孫がジョン・フランシス・ダンダスで、彼は19世紀初めはマッカンデリシュとエジンバラで技術事務所を共同経営した。ここに、コリン・マッケンジーColin Mackenzieやコリン・アレクサンダー・マクヴェインの登場の基盤が築かれていた。18世紀末から19世紀にかけて、イギリス人が最も広く測量したのはイギリス国土ではなく、東インド会社領地であり、このマッケンジーは東インド会社技師長として南インドからジャワ島まで三角測量した。

Office of Ordnanceという部局は14世紀末のブリティンにソンｚ内していた。この部局はRoyal Aesenalに従属し、ロンドン塔の中に事務所を置いていた。君主の軍備、兵器工場、要塞城の統制に責任を持ち、1518年にはBoard of Ordnanceとしてこの部局は名前を替え、そしてその後350年間保持した。オードナンスという言葉は、オーディナンスordinanceから来ており、複雑な言葉であるが、発注されるorder、規定されるordainという意味である。しかし、国家の中で使われる場合、軍事と結びつく。オードナンス、フランス語ではオードナンスであり、陸軍の装備、拳銃、大砲、火薬などを取り扱う。

Board of Ordnanceは独立した軍事組織で有り、陸軍からは分離してた。不通の兵隊は君主に対応するように、オード納戸の従業員はボードの指示を仰いでいた。これは海軍でも同じで、それは海軍本部Board of Admiraltyの指示の下で動いていた。17世紀末、オードナンスの任務は二つの主要部分に分かれ始めた。砲兵Artilleryと工兵Engineeringである。1717年5月16日、この分割が公式になった。軍需部の下に、砲兵隊と工兵隊が誕生した。ガンとキャノンは第一の任務で有り、要塞と港湾は第二の任務であった。

地図作成はこの二つの部局の些細な仕事であった。そのためロンドンタワーの中心部に製図室をもち、地図作成は必ずしも軍人ではなくてもよかった。

そんなところに、1843年、デヴィッド･ワトソンは働き始め、その才能を開花させることになった。

II. Board of Ordnance and Ordnance Survey Office.軍需部と同部測量局 https://www.ordnancesurvey.co.uk/about/history

II-1. 測量局の公式見解

※測量局は自組織の歴史を1791年前後から書き始めているが、大事な前史を見落としているとレイチェル女史の研究が指摘している。

(1) 1783-1791

   William Roy’s lifelong mission was to build a superior map of Britain, unparalleled in its accuracy. The day the Board of Ordnance set his suggested plan into action, Ordnance Survey was born. In 1784, Roy was commissioned by the Royal Society to geodetically connect the Royal Observatories of Greenwich and Paris to solve a dispute over their relative positions. To do this he needed a more sophisticated theodolite (a precision instrument for measuring angles horizontally and vertically) than had previously existed. This could only be created by Jesse Ramsden, the leading instrument maker of the day.

   He produced a spectacular Great Theodolite, three years in the making, measuring three feet across. To begin the London/Paris triangulation, it was necessary to measure a baseline that Roy established on the flattest suitable ground on Hounslow Heath (a line that now crosses Heathrow airport).

   Using the Ramsden theodolite and trigonometry, a network of accurately measured triangles was extended to France and then back to a verification baseline in Kent. Newspapers of the time lauded Roy as an ‘incomparable engineer’ while the Royal Society awarded him its highest accolade – the Copley Medal. The five-mile line was to later form the basis of the Principal Triangulation of Great Britain.

   In his lifetime, Roy had been convinced that ‘the honour of the nation’ depended on creating ‘a map of the British islands’ that was ‘greatly superior in point and accuracy to any that is now extant’. Transforming his vision into reality, the Board of Ordnance bought a second new (and improved) Ramsden theodolite. The date was 21 June 1791 – officially recognised as the birth of Ordnance Survey.

･ウィリアム･ロイの生涯の任務は、精確無比のすばらしい地図を作成することだった。軍需測量局が彼の提案を行動に移した日に政府測量が誕生した。1784年、ロイは王立協会からの委託により、相対位置の議論を解決するために、グリニッジの王立観測台を測地学的にパリと結びつけるようにと委託を受けた。これを行うために、彼はより精巧なテオドライトを必要とし、その装置は当時の優れた機器製造者であったジェシ･ラムスデンによって作られた。

   彼は、3年かけて長さ3フィートのとても大きなテオドライトを作り出した。ロンドン･バリ間の三角測量を始める際に、ベースラインを測定する必要があった。それはロイがハンスロー・ヒースの平坦な良好地に創設したものだった。

   ラムスデンのテオドライトと三角測量法を用いて、正確に測定された三角形網がフランスまで拡大し、そして県との確定ベースラインまで戻ってきた。当時の新聞は、ロイを「比類無き技術者」として持ち上げ、そして王立協会は彼に最も高位のコップレイメダルを与えた。5マイルのラインは、その後大ブリテンの主要ベースラインの基本となった。

   ロイは、生涯にわたり「国家の名誉」は精確なイギリス列島の地図の作製にあることに確信した。彼の見解を具体化するため、地図局はラムスデンのテオドライトに二回目の改良を加えた。その日は1791年6月21日であり、これが政府測量の誕生であった。

(2) 1791-1801

   As surveyors carved our landscape into accurate triangles, the rest of Europe was in turmoil. To brace England for the threat of French invasion, the Board of Ordnance commanded the maps be fleshed out for tactical military purposes… starting with our vulnerable coastal areas.

   It was Charles Lennox, third Duke of Richmond and Master-General of the Board of Ordnance who founded the Trigonometrical Survey for national defence purposes. Without good British maps the country couldn’t position its armies defensively. It was crucial to map the features that could be hidden behind, aimed at and where troops could be quartered. It was also important to record the type of terrain.

   The priority was to start mapping the coastal areas that were most vulnerable to invasion. Redundant warning beacons dotted along the coast made ideal trig points. It’s said that the light from the surveyors’ lamps was occasionally mistaken by locals as signals of French invasion. Before summer 1794 had turned into autumn, mapmakers had ‘laid down’ the triangulation of the coast from Fairlight Head in Sussex to Portland in Dorset. Mapmaking began attracting a lot of attention from landowners, who offered landmarks in their own estates as secondary trig points.

   The surveyors otherwise often built small stacks of stones to indicate where their theodolite had been placed and these remained in the landscape for months afterwards. Once peace was established, the progress of map publication often depended on enough landowners in an area agreeing to buy maps in advance.

   測量師はわれわれの景色を精確な三角形に落とし込んだ時、ヨーロッパの他の所は混乱状態であった。フランスからの侵略の脅威からイングランドを守るため、軍需局は軍事目的で地図作製を急いだ。軍需局長だったチャールズ・レノックスは国土防衛のために三角測量を創設した。

 優先順位は侵略を受けやすい海岸地域の地図作成から始まった。1794年夏から秋にかけて、沿岸域に三角網を配置した。この地図は土地所有者の心を捕らえ、自らの土地の中にもランドマークを提供した。

(3) 1801-1824

   The first maps were available to the public in the late Georgian era. These stunning ‘works of art’ weren’t cheap, but the owner was privy to a spectacular aerial view of the landscape until then only seen from a hot air balloon. ‘Ordnance Survey’ wasn’t used at all until 1801 when its director wrote it on a draft document. The name wasn’t printed on a map until the 1810 ‘Ordnance Survey of the Isle of Wight and part of Hampshire'. The first Ordnance Survey map was published in 1801. England’s most south-easterly county, Kent, was one area most vulnerable to French invasion.ジョージアン朝後期になって一般公衆が最初の地図を手にするようになった。すばらしい手仕事の製品は安価ではなく、土地所有者は自らの土地をより壮大に見せようと気球から描かせることもあった。政府測量は1801年までまったく使われなかった。1810年に「ライト島とハンプシャーの一部の政府地図」ができるまで、「政府地図」という言葉は印刷されなかった。1801年に最初の政府地図が出版された。イングランドの最東西部のケントで、フランスから侵略を受けやすいところだった。

   These early maps, with their elaborate hill shading and attention to communication routes, highlight the emphasis given to military use. In time, this military face would soften and the map design was developed to appeal to a much wider audience. Triangulation was used as an accurate framework to the internal mapping which was beautifully intricate. Maps were made by first breaking down the great triangles into smaller ones.これらの最初の地図は、起伏や交通路が詳しく描かれ、軍事目的であった。しばらくして、軍事的側面は和らぎ、地図のデザインは一般大衆の注目を集めるように発展した。三角測量網は精確な骨格造りのために用いられ、美しく細工された。大三角網はより小さい地域の地図へと発展していった。

   Surveyors then used several techniques to create ‘intersected points’ to provide a framework for the map detail. Place names often proved difficult as locals could argue over what name was actually correct. Eventually a Name Book system was put in place. Variations of all proper names such as rivers and hills, as well as towns, were recorded in a series of books and from this selection the most authoritative was chosen for publication.測量師は次第に詳細な地図骨格のため「交差地点」を作り出す技術を用いた。

   This first map took three years to complete, and surveyors worked to a scale of two inches to one mile, that was reduced to one inch to a mile when printed. Maps were engraved ‘in reverse’ on copper plate which was used for printing. Separate legends appeared for the symbols – the maps were huge enough without them. Its launch was much anticipated, and the public could buy Ordnance Survey maps either from the Board of Ordnance headquarters in the Tower of London, or from William Faden, a map seller at Charing Cross.

   The first maps were sold at three guineas (£3 3s) per county survey, which was between one and three weeks’ wages for the average person. Part of their appeal was they offered a bird’s eye view of the landscape – until then only the privilege of very few hot air balloonists. Four years later, a map of Essex followed. Within 20 years, about a third of England and Wales had been mapped at the one inch scale under the direction of William Mudge. It was thought that 50 years would be long enough to map the country, but the entire first series of maps wasn’t published until 1870.

(4) 1824-1855

   Almost the entire staff of Ordnance Survey was shipped across the Irish Sea to carry out a six inches to the mile survey of Ireland for accurate land taxation. England and Scotland soon followed in this new, powerful railway era. Staff could now legally tread upon any land for surveying purposes, and a fire in Ordnance Survey’s Tower of London offices saw the headquarters move to Southampton. In 1824, Parliament ordered Colby and his staff across the Irish Sea. A six inches to the mile accurate map of Ireland was needed for land taxation purposes.

   An utter perfectionist, Colby commissioned specialist measuring equipment, established a systematic collection of place names and re-organised the map-making process to produce clear, accurate plans. He believed in sharing the hardships as well as the achievements of his staff. After travelling with his men, he’d help to build camps, and arranged mountain-top feasts with huge plum puddings at the end of each surveying season.

   The survey of Ireland was completed in 1846 and the maps are now an unrivalled resource for studying the period before the Great Irish Famine (1847-50). Brian Friel’s play Translations is inspired by the OS survey and the difficulties the English surveyors had in translating Irish place names. Soon after the first Irish maps began to appear in the mid-1830s, there were calls for similar six-inch surveys in England and Wales. This was the era of railway mania and the one-inch map was virtually useless for the new breed of railway engineers.

    Colby also introduced height to Ordnance Survey maps by commissioning a national geodetic levelling survey in relation to mean sea level in Liverpool measured using a tide gauge. Now, surveyors needed greater access than ever before and so, in 1841, the Survey Act gave them a legal right to ‘enter into and upon any land… for the purposes of making and carrying out a survey’.

   Yet 1841 was also the year Ordnance Survey’s cramped Tower of London offices were at the centre of a national catastrophe. Fire swept through the Grand Storehouse, threatening to engulf the Crown Jewels in the Martin Tower. Miraculously, the precious things were saved, and most of Ordnance Survey’s records and instruments were also carried to safety. But the fire highlighted the Survey’s desperate need for more office space, and prompted a move to a new Southampton headquarters in an empty former barrack building.

(5) 1855-1935

   Accurate maps of all scales were more in demand, and new methods of mapmaking, including photography, made the process easier. Yet the tide of history would soon sweep Ordnance Survey back to its roots. During the Great War, mapmakers were posted overseas and, under appalling conditions, made and printed millions of maps for the allies. 

   Amid reform, Victorians had a real need for accurate mapping and, after years of disagreements, several different scales of maps were agreed, including six inches to the mile for mountain and moorland, 25 inches to the mile for rural areas, right up to ten and a half feet to the mile for built-up areas. Zincography (using zinc sheets) began to replace lithography (using stone) as a method of printing, with copper plate engravings still used for the one inch maps.

   Photography was introduced to the map making process in 1855 by Sir Henry James. He was probably Ordnance Survey’s most egotistical Director General but he realised how maps could be cheaply and quickly enlarged or reduced using this new science. He used an elaborate ‘glass house’ to develop prints using sunlight. He later claimed to have invented photozincography (a photographic method of producing printing plates) although it had been developed by two of his staff.

   James welcomed international interest and made all inventions, mathematical tables and scientific data openly available, even publishing a book on the subject. Colour map printing was introduced to the one-inch map in 1887 while in 1902, Ordnance Survey employed women for the first time, to mount and colour maps. The 20th century brought more cyclists and motorists onto the roads and ramblers into the countryside. The new Director General, Colonel Charles Close (affectionately known as ‘Daddy’ to his staff) quickly saw there was potential for huge map sales among this expanding leisure market.

   As Britain entered the First World War, staff from Ordnance Survey were posted overseas. Working in appalling conditions, surveyors plotted the lines of trenches and, for the first time, aerial photography was used to capture survey information. By the end of the First World War, Ordnance Survey had printed 20 million maps for the war effort. After the War, thoughts turned to marketing the maps to engage a new wave of outdoor enthusiasts. A professional artist was appointed to produce eye-catching covers for the one-inch maps. Ellis Martin’s classic designs boosted sales to record levels, and maps were soon seen as essential by the general public.

II-2.  A short history of the Ordnance Survey of Great Britain

   The formal ‘foundation date’ for the Ordnance Survey is usually taken to be June 1791, but its origins lie further back. What some writers have taken to be the starting point is a survey of Scotland at one inch to 1000 yards (1:36,000) executed between 1747 and 1755 as part of pacification operations following the Jacobite uprising of 1745-6. This survey remained in manuscript until 2007, when a facsimile was issued. The instigator appears to have been Col David Watson, an officer in the Army and also in the Engineers of the Board of Ordnance, (which until 1855 was a separate organisation). 

［訳］国土測量の創設は公式には1791年6月となっているが、その起源はもっと昔にさかのぼることができる。ある研究者は1747年から1755年にスコットランドでで行われた測量地図作製を起源と考えている。これは、1745年から46年にかけてのジャコバイト蜂起に対して防御策の一部として実施された。それを扇動したのはデヴィッド・ワトソン少尉であった。

   It was the first government made survey of a substantial tract of Great Britain, and one of the participants was William Roy (1726-90). In 1763, 1766 and 1783 Roy made proposals for an official survey of Britain, to be published at either one inch or one and a quarter inches to one mile (1:63,360 or 1:51,138), which might have re-used some of the work done for the military survey of Scotland, but all these proposals failed because the cost was considered excessive, and by the 1780s a considerable number of counties had been mapped commercially at 1:63,360, to varying standards. The real start of work which can be recognised as ‘Ordnance Survey’ came in 1783-4, when the Royal Societies of London and Paris agreed to settle a long running dispute as to the relative positions of the astronomical observatories in these two cities by connecting them by a system of triangulation.

［訳］大英帝国における最初の政府測量において、重要な役割を果たしたのがウィリアム・ロイであった。1763年から66年に、政府に国土の公式測量を提案し、それは1インチまたは1インチ半対1マイル縮尺の地図として公表すべきとした。これはスコットランドの一部で軍事的目的で行われたが、全国土に関してはそれにかかる費用の観点から断念された。そのため、1780年代まで、各地で縮尺の異なるさまざまな地図が作成された。政府測量は、1783年から84年にロンドンとパリの王立協会が両都市の精確な距離測量から実現をみた。

   Triangulation is a means of measuring distance and fixing positions on the basis of measuring a single base and as many angles as may be necessary; if one side and two angles of a triangle are known, the remaining sides can be found by calculation. Until the recent advent of satellite positioning systems, triangulation was the universal means of providing a skeleton for controlling survey operations, and was the only feasible way of measuring distances across water and other obstacles where ground measurement, by chains or tapes, was impracticable. The English part of the operations was under the Roy’s direction: he was now a Major-General and the leading geodesist of the day. Though the enterprise was civil in nature, he was assisted by men of the Royal Artillery. By the time of Roy’s death in 1790 the London-Paris triangulation had been completed, and he was contemplating its extension as a basis for survey work in Britain.

［訳］三角測量網は距離測定の一手段であり、一辺測定のベースの位置を定める手段である。

   That this came about was due less to any master-scheme and more to a state-of-the-art theodolite coming onto the market unexpectedly. The third Duke of Richmond, then Master-General of the Ordnance, who was thoroughly sympathetic to Roy’s ideas, saw an opportunity, and the Ordnance duly authorised the expenditure of £373.14s (£373.70) of national funds on the theodolite on 21 June 1791, since taken to be the official ‘foundation date’ of the Ordnance Survey. Men were recruited or seconded to perform or supervise the operations, and Roy’s work was gradually extended outwards from the south-east of England. By 1823 it had covered much of Britain. Though a system of triangulation was a necessity for a national survey, it was by no means a guarantee of it; for maps, in the sense most lay people understand them, 1791 was a year much less significant than either 1784 or 1795. In 1784-6 a six inches to one mile (1:10,560) survey of Plymouth and its environs was carried out at Richmond’s behest, for an abortive fortification proposal, and then the same team of surveyors went on to survey other places of military interest at the same scale. By the late 1780s they were in Kent. These military surveys appear to have been made as isolated entities; only in 1795, it appears, was the decision taken to survey the whole country: whether Britain, or just England and Wales, is uncertain. The reason was evident enough: the war with France, which had broken out in 1793, and which might lead to an invasion of Britain, and hence to a need for maps for defence. By the end of the war, in 1815, most of England and Wales south of a line through Birmingham had been mapped, mostly at the two-inch (1:31,680) scale. Some of it had also been published. 

 It is as yet undecided whether the crucial initiative of publishing the Ordnance surveys was taken by the Board of Ordnance or by William Faden, ‘Geographer to the King ‘, and the leading map-seller and publisher of the day. What is certain is that early in 1801 Faden published a four-sheet 1:63,360 map of Kent, based wholly on Ordnance surveys. The Ordnance then took the work of engraving and publishing into its own hands, and in April 1805 issued four 1:63,360 sheets covering Essex. These were the first instalment of what would in time come to be called the ‘Old Series’ one-inch map. By 1820 there was OS oneinch coverage of the whole of southern England, as well as of Essex and Pembrokeshire, and a definite public demand for the map was evidenced by that of Lincolnshire being taken out of its intended turn in response to a request from that county’s landowners. At this point there came two diversions. In 1820 Captain Thomas Colby (1784-1852) was put in charge of the Survey, and almost immediately he was confronted with evidence from several sources that OS work was not of the best standard. As a result, between 1821 and 1834 almost all OS field work in Great Britain consisted of revising existing surveys; the cloud had a silver lining in that the engravers could catch up with the field work, and the ten to fifteen year time-lag common hitherto was almost eliminated. By 1844 publication of the Old Series one-inch was complete for the whole of Britain south of a line from Preston to Hull. The second diversion came from Ireland, the mapping of which at the six-inch scale between 1824 and 1846 is described in more detail on another page of this website. Most of the workers on the Irish survey - over 2000 at its peak - were civilians, but they were under military supervision, by officers and men of the Royal Engineers and the Royal Sappers and Miners. The OS continued on this basis until 1939, after which the military component was drastically reduced, and finally eliminated in 1983. In the late 1830s there came demands for the six-inch scale to be adopted in Great Britain. Most of these demands came from Scotland. The triangulation of that country had been suspended in 1823 in favour of that of Ireland, and a topographical survey, begun in Wigtownshire in 1819, had fizzled out with no published maps to show for it. The Scots wanted to be mapped, and Colby suggested that they consider well the scale to be used. Published Irish 1:10,560 sheets found their way to Scotland, and influential Scottish voices, plus a few in northern England and Henry De la Beche, in charge of the Geological Survey, which had begun under Ordnance auspices in 1832, felt that ‘six inches would be the thing.’ In October 1840 the Treasury duly authorised the adoption of the six-inch scale for northern England and for Scotland. The Irish survey was nearly complete, and when six-inch work began in earnest in Lancashire around September 1841 it was with a largely Irish labourforce. Towns of over 4000 population were mapped at the five feet (1:1056) scale, a scale which had not been asked for, but which was imported on questionable Irish precedents. This in turn led to special surveys of London and other towns at either this scale or at ten feet to one mile (1:528) between 1844 and 1853. In contrast to this expansion, the Geological Survey was removed from Ordnance control in 1845, though the OS continued to prepare and print the mapping until the last quarter of the twentieth century. It might have been expected that the six-inch survey of northern Britain would proceed expeditiously, but it did not. This was probably partly due to underestimating the effort needed for surveying urban areas, so much more extensive than in Ireland, but was mostly due to a squeeze on public spending. The result was that by 1851 only one English county - Lancashire - and one Scottish county - Wigtownshire - had been completed at the six-inch scale, and though a few others were in preparation, sufficient influential Scots had had enough. A House of Commons Select Committee recommended the abandonment of the six- inch scale and the reversion to two-inch survey for one-inch publication. The Treasury, thinking that this would save money, latched on to this eagerly. The Battle of the Scales had begun. 

［訳］

   Though the six-inch had been found to have enemies, it became apparent in the course of 1852 that it had some friends as well. Requests for six-inch mapping came from several counties, where it was thought that it would facilitate mining operations, and the six-inch was provisionally reinstated pending a thorough reconsideration of the scales question. In April 1853 the Ordnance was instructed in future to survey in such a manner as to allow publication at a scale of 24 inches to one mile (1:2640) and in July 1854 the Treasury decided that all cultivated rural areas should be mapped at 1:2500 (25.344 inches to one mile), an international standard which had the advantage of splitting the difference between 1:2640 and 1:2376, or one inch to three chains, hitherto much favoured for estate and similar surveys. Though the adoption of such a large scale might seem to be a radical step, it could be justified on the grounds that it would contain all the data necessary to produce maps at smaller scales, and would thus be much more cost-effective than a survey at one-inch or six-inch. (The Treasury carried out its civil service reforms at much the same time with similar thinking in mind.) In May 1855 the 1:500 (10.56 feet to one mile) was prescribed for urban surveys. These decisions were not universally welcomed, and in 1857 a House of Commons vote forced a temporary reversion to the six-inch scale, which was reversed following the proceedings of a Royal Commission the following year. By 1861 the survey of Scotland was making good progress and the then head of the OS, Colonel Sir Henry James (1803-77) urged that the question of remapping southern Britain at 1:2500 be considered. This remapping had been implicit to thoughtful people, such as W.E. Gladstone, in the earlier authorisation of large-scale work, and it was duly authorised in 1863. The resurvey was ostensibly justified on the grounds of impending land registration and parochial assessment needs, though it is unlikely that either provided much demand for the published maps; indeed, compulsory land registration on sale was only accomplished nationally in 1990, and much land remains unregistered. The resurvey proceeded more slowly than James had hoped for, probably because the magnitude the task, particularly in regard to urban areas, had been underestimated. In 1880 a drastic acceleration in the work was effected. The spur was what the cynical might call another land registration scare, but it had the effect of completing the 1:2500 resurvey in 1888 instead of 1900. This was followed by the remapping at 1:2500 of those counties mapped at the six-inch scale before 1855. This was accomplished mainly by ‘replotting’ the original six-inch measurements, a method which ought to have been satisfactory, but which in practice sometimes was not, as the six-inch work proved to be of a lower standard than had hitherto been assumed. Defective work in the ‘replotted counties’ remained a nuisance until the recasting of the 1:2500 on National Grid sheet lines after World War II. In 1870 the OS had passed from War Office to civil ministerial control, though it was still organised on military lines (if with a mainly civilian staff). In 1890 it was transferred to the newly-formed Board of Agriculture. A departmental committee that sat in 1892 led to the authorisation of regular revision, but the mapping of towns at scales larger than 1:2500 continued only for those few towns which were prepared to pay for them. The theory was that, once the first revision had been completed, in future no one-inch sheet would be more than fifteen years out of date and no six-inch or 1:2500 sheet more than twenty years out of date; in practice, before 1914 revision was often at shorter intervals. Like the original survey, revision was made almost wholly county by county. The revision went ahead smoothly until 1911, when in order to put into effect the recently introduced tax on the incremental value of land, normal revision was suspended in favour of partial revision of certain areas for Land Valuation purposes. As the 1:2500 was rather crowded in some areas, some sheets were produced as photo-enlargements at 1:1250 scale. The backlog of normal revision was cleared by August 1914, when the drawing off of military manpower from the OS on the outbreak of war promptly started a new series of arrears, with large-scale revision proceeding at a much slower pace. Post-war economies meant that the arrears of revision grew rather than diminished; the twenty-year revision cycle was abandoned, and by 1935 almost the only large-scale revision in progress was that of developing areas in southern Lancashire, the West Riding of Yorkshire, and around London. At the same time up to date large--scale OS mapping was an absolute necessity for the successful working of some recent legislation, and for town and country planning, and to investigate this state of affairs a Departmental Committee was appointed, under the chairmanship of J.C.C. (later Viscount) Davidson. The Davidson Committee made two reports. The first recommended immediate increases in staff to tackle the revision backlog, and was acted upon at once; the second recommended that all the maps and plans of the OS should be recast on metric grid sheet lines on the Transverse Mercator projection (a yard grid using this projection had been in limited use for small-scale maps for some years), that all large-scale maps should then be placed under continuous revision and that experiments should be made with ad hoc mapping at 1:1250 (as opposed to the photo-enlargements) and 1:25,000 (a scale already used for military mapping). 

III. A Family Affair: The Dundas Family of Arniston and the Military Survey of Scotland (1747-1755)

by RACHEL HEWITT, Imago Mundi, Vol. 64, No. 1 (2012), pp. 60-77, Imago Mundi, Ltd.

Preface

This paper is the result of extensive investigation of the archives of the Dundas family of Arniston, Midlothian. It uncovers significant roles played in the organization of David Watson and William Roy's Military Survey of Scotland (1747-1755) by successive generations of the Dundases and suggests that the introduction of Watson, an established military engineer, to the young civilian Roy, was facilitated by that family. The Dundases' patronage of the Military Survey encourages us to understand the project as a private-public partnership and supports contentions that Enlightenment mapping resulted from complex social networks straddling military and civilian life. 

Robert Dundas, David Dundas, Philip Dundas, and William Roy.

［訳］本論文は、スコットランドのミッドローティアン県アーニストン郡のダンダス家文書を広範かつ精緻に調査したことから得られた。デヴィッド・ワトソンとウィリアム・ロイによるスコットランド軍事測量（1747-55年）の創成において、数代にわたるダンダス家が重要な役割を果たしたことが明らかになった。ダンダス家の軍事測量の支援は軍事面に留まらず、私たちの生活にまで地図を至らせることになった。

(1) CHAPTER ONE  Magnificent Military Sketch' 

   ON 2 9 JUNE 1704, in a north-western suburb of Edinburgh, Mary Baird, the well-to-do wife of a successful merchant called Robert Watson, gave birth to her eleventh child: a son they called David. David Watson's earliest years were spent in Muirhouse, which is now a sprawling housing estate to the north of Scotland's capital, but was then a prosperous area populated by traders, where his father had recently purchased an enviable house with surrounding land. 

   David was the baby of a large family, whose siblings ranged in age from two to fourteen, and around whom a host of affluent aunts and uncles clustered. But at the age of eight the young boy's life underwent a dramatic upheaval: David's father suddenly died. And in that same year his eldest sister Elizabeth, whose portrait shows her to have had kind but nervous eyes, a hesitant smile and luxuriant auburn hair, married into one of Scotland's most influential families. 

   Elizabeth Watson's suitor was a 27-year-old lawyer called Robert Dundas, heir to a dynasty whose command of the Scottish legal system in the eighteenth century has led it to be termed the `Dundas despotism'. His family played such significant roles in public life that their Victorian biographer concluded that 'to describe, in full detail, the various transactions in which they took the leading part would be to write the history of Scotland during the greater part of the eighteenth century'. Robert Dundas himself was a star in the legal firmament. He had been made Solicitor General of Scotland at a precociously young age, and rapidly attained the positions of Lord Advocate, Dean of the Faculty of Advocates and Lord President of the Court of Session. 

※1704年6月29日、エジンバラの北西郊外、大商人のロバート・ワトソンの妻であるメリー・ベアードは11人目の子供を産んだ。名前をデヴィッド・ワトソンと名付けられ、幼少期はミアーハウスで過ごした。そこは現在スコットランド首都の北方に広がる農場となっているが、しかしかつてはそこは貿易商人たちが集まる栄えた場所で、彼の父親もそこにたいそう立派な家を購入した。デヴィッドは大家族の子供で、14歳から2 歳まで年の離れた兄弟姉妹がおり、さらに叔父や叔母の家族も近くに住んでいた。18歳の時、この少年の生活は大きな転機を迎える。デヴィッドの父親は急死し、その年彼の一番上の姉エリザベスがスコットランドで最も影響力のある家族の一つに嫁ぐことになった。エリザベスの求婚者はロバート・ダンダスという28歳になる弁護士で、スコットランド法曹界を牛耳る家柄を相続することになっていた。

   His reputation was immense: he was described as 'one of the ablest lawyers this country ever produced'. Gruff, with a tendency to irritability, Dundas was hardly the smooth and urbane lawyer one might expect. Physically he was not prepossessing. A friend described him as 'ill-looking, with a large nose and small ferret eyes, round shoulders' and 'a harsh croaking voice' with a robust Lowland Scottish accent. He was a man of unpredictable extremes, whose temper was said to be characterised by `heat' and 'impetuosity but matched with 'abundance of tact'. He drank prodigiously— a bill for wine at his mansion over a nine-month period came to the equivalent of ft 1,000 — but he was still able to conduct his work with clarity and precision, even after 'honouring Bacchus for to many hours, as the novelist Walter Scott put it. And despite this erratic character, Dundas was highly respected. 

※彼の名声は大変なもので、

   It was said that within three sentences his listener was invariably swayed by such 'a torrent of good sense and clear reasoning, that made one totally forget the first impression'. Taking into account his inheritance of the stunning and capacious estate of Arniston on the fertile banks of the river Esk in Midlothian, Robert Dundas was an entirely desirable prospect fur Elizabeth Watson. At the time of her marriage, Elizabeth had just lost her father, and it is pos-sible that her mother was also deceased by this point, as she and her new husband became something of surrogate parents to her eight-year-old brother David. His contact with the Dundas family would change the course of David Watson's life. It was an exciting time: the atmosphere of Lowland Scotland was alive with optimism in the early eighteenth century. In 1707, an Act of Union had officially united Scotland and England into 'Great Britain' and, in the emerging 'Age of Enlightenment', the intellectual climate of this young nation was buzzing with a new intensity. The Dundases had played central roles in the Union and they considered themselves to be standard-bearers of the Scottish Enlightenment. His intimacy with this influential family would open up an array of opportunities to the young David Watson. 

   THE ONSET OF an Age of Enlightenment in Britain was enormously helped by two events that had occurred in 1687 and 1688. The publication of Isaac Newton's Philosophiae Namralis Aincipia Mathematiea (Mathematical Principfir of Natural Philosophy), and the 'abdication' of King James II of England, followed by the arrival of his Protestant daughter Mary and her Dutch husband William as joint monarchs, were events that were both widely considered to demonstrate the potential of human powers of reason. Newton's Prineipia Mathematica revealed that, despite its semblance of arbitrariness and confusion, the cosmos was really a unified system. 

   And the 'Glorious Revolution' that was marked by James II's departure set a new precedent for the relationship between the government and the Crown, founded on the rational principles that Britons deserved 'the right to choose our own governors, to cashier them for misconduct, and to frame a government for ourselves'. Following these momentous occurrences, the philosophers of the British Enlightenment emphasised that science, politics, geography, art and literature should be guided by reason above all else.

    They were confident that powers of rationality could uncover the truth about the world. One of the key aspirations of Enlightenment thinkers was the creation of a vibrant 'public sphere' in which every member of the populace would feel free to &pre auder — to dare to think for themselves. The Enlightenment had important consequences for maps and map-making in Britain. A new ideal was dangled before surveyors: that cartography could be a language of reason, capable of creating an accurate image of the natural world. 

   Enlightenment thinkers invested maps with the hope that the repeated observation and measurement of the landscape would build up an archive of knowledge that approached to perfect truth. The French philosophy, Diderot and d'Alembert saw maps as images of the ordered, rational mind, and they compared their own Engdopidie to 'a kind of world map' whose articles functioned like 'individual, highly detailed maps'. The natural philosopher Bernard de Fontenelle described the zeitgeist of the Age of Enlightenment as an 'esprit giometrigue. 

   The twentieth-century Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges has encapsulated the desire of thinkers in this period for ultimate 'Exactitude in Science' by liken-ing it to the ultimately doomed objective to make 'a Map of the Empire' on the scale of one-to-one, whose 'size was that of the Empire, and which coin-cided point for point with it.' Accuracy, or rather 'the quantifying spirit', thus became a new priority for map-makers in the eighteenth century, inspiring such dramatic advances in instruments and methods that, by the second half of the century, Britain was home to some of the most precise map-making and astronomical instru-ments in the world and the most diligent, rational surveyors. The emergence of relatively trustworthy maps had profound effects on the way they were used by the general populace. As we shall see later, the new maps assisted the process by which Britain's component regions were integrated into a unified nation. Progress in cartography occurred in parallel with the improvement of the nation's road networks, the innovations in coach design that made travel cheaper and less uncomfortable, and historical and cultural events that heralded a new dawn in the British tourist industry. Maps became hall-marks of an 'enlightened' mind and nation. And in 1720 a surveyor called George Mark issued a call to arms to the principal players of the Scottish Enlightenment, begging them to further the state of cartography: "Tis truely strange why our Scotish [sic] Nobility and Gentry, who are so universally esteemed for their Learning, Curiosity and Affection for their Country, should suffer an Omission of this Nature ... in what so much concerns the Honours of the Nation!' 

DAVID WATSON GREW up in the early decades of the Scottish Enlightenment among a family who were enthusiastic sponsors of its values. In spite of a certain degree of anti-intellectual bluster on Robert Dundas's part, and his reputation for never having been 'known to read a book', Arniston's library was impressively stocked with travel-narratives, topo-graphical writings, atlases, maps and expensive globes. A theoretical knowledge of surveying was considered integral to the education of an 

enlightened gentleman, who was expected to be able to commission and judge maps of his own estate. Arniston House accordingly boasted an inspir-ing collection of surveying instruments and a series of cartographic depictions of the large and varied surrounding estate. We can imagine that David Watson, and Elizabeth and Robert Dundas's own children, looked on in fascination as well-known estate surveyors, and famous architects such as Wdliam Adam, laid measuring chains along the lengths of the youngsters' favourite avenues of trees, translating the familiar Midlothian landscape into numbers, angles and lines on a map. The Dundases' enthusiasm for geography was such that they even attended the prestigious lectures on surveying that were delivered by the Edinburgh mathematician Colin Maclaurin. A child prodigy who was elected Professor of Mathematics at Aberdeen University at the age of nine-teen, Maclaurin had so impressed Isaac Newton with his work that Newton had even offered to pay his salary. At Edinburgh, Maclaurin devised a rigorous course of mathematical education that emphasised the discipline's practical applications, especially to map-making The Scots Magazine described how, in his lectures, Maclaurin 'begins with demonstrating the grounds of vulgar and decimal arithmetic; then proceeds to Euclid; and after ... insists on surveying, fortification and other practical parts'. Maclaurin's lecture-theatre was an intellectual hothouse that produced a brood of illustrious surveyors, architects and mathematical instrument-makers such as Alexander Bryce, Murdoch Mackenzie, Robert Adam and James Short. Sitting in Maclaurin's audience, the Dandases, and perhaps Watson too, were among inspiring cartographical company As David Watson approached his mid teens, his sister and her husband applied themselves to furthering his career. Characteristically of younger rel-atives of the gentry, Watson expressed an interest in joining the Army. Robert Dundas used his influence to obtain a commission for his younger brother-in-law, and Watson duly spent much of his twenties and thirties on the Continent. He endured a 'long banishment at Gib[raltar]', where the British were building fortifications, and he enjoyed a martial 'Scuffle' during the War of the Polish Succession. But while Watson was fighting abroad, tragedy struck at Arniston. In November 1733 Elizabeth and Robert's young 

son came home from the local school in Dalkeith with signs of sickness. The symptoms rapidly worsened and revealed themselves as smallpox, and the boy was dead within a week. The couple's three other little children were infected and one by one between November 1733 and January 1734 they all died. By early December 1733 Elizabeth herself was 'contind to her Chamber and pretty much to her bed'. When her two small daughters died at the beginning of the new year, their mother was too weak to be told. By 6 February 1734 this poor woman had fmally succumbed. Robert Dundas retreated to London to mourn `the best of mothers' and 'an incomparable wife'. But as one door dosed for him, another was about to open. A couple of weeks before the arrival of the smallpox at Arniston, Dundas had paid a visit to a client in the Upper Ward of Lanarkshire, a region stretching south from the town of Carluke, about nineteen miles south-east of Glasgow Sir William Gordon was the owner of two conjoined estates, Hallcraig and Milton, which emended west from Carluke along the dank northern edge of a small brook called Jock's Gill, then reached up onto wide fertile plains, before dropping down into the lush crook of the river Clyde, where the road stopped for want of a bridge. 

   Sir William was a canny operator, one of the very few to have made money from the South Sea Bubble — the stockmarket crash that had devastated Britain's economy in 1720— and he had been seeking legal advice from Dundas for over a decade. No doubt one of the chief attractions of Gordon's case for his lawyer was his young daughter Ann: a spirited, flirtatious and enormously beautiful woman. Her portrait, painted by the famous Joseph Highmore and now hanging on a staircase in Arniston House, shows large dark eyes slanted in readiness to laugh, fashionably alabaster skin and teak-coloured hair from whose arrangements a few unruly curls escaped. Elizabeth Dundas, to whom writ-ing did not come naturally, had not been able to accompany her husband to Lanarkshire on this occasion and she laboured over a formal apology to Ann, hoping to 'have the happness [air] to see' the eighteen-year-old woman in Edinburgh soon. Robert Dundas's visit to Milton in October 1733 lasted only a few days. His carriage overturned on the bad roads that led out of Carluke on his way home, and he suffered what Elizabeth termed 'a truble in his bake' for many 

weeks. Upon returning to Arniston, Dundas too wrote to Ann. `I won't omits ane opportunity of writing to you however lice I may have to say,' he assured her. He was positive that, 'when I speak of affection[,] good oppin-ion and every good wish I am capable of, these will be no news to you'. Dundas designated Ann his 'rival wife', and he reflected ponderously that `this is quite new for a man and two wifes to be all one'. He signed off by exhorting her to `believe me Dear Anne' that he was 'with the greatest esteem and pleasure, as much yours as I can be ... my Dear Girl'. In the wake of Elizabeth's death only a few months later, Ann Gordon wrote back to Robert Dundas. She sympathised with `the Loss You have ... Made' but she family reminded him that 'You once gave me Reason to Pretend some Tittle to Your Heart'. With a mixture of sincerity and flirta-tiousness, Ann openly informed this man, who was almost thirty years her senior, that `I Intend to Pursue You with m Much Friendship & Contempt[,] Love and Indifference as Must Convince You'. He was easily convinced and the 'rival wife' mon became his lawful spouse. Ann and Robert's wedding took place four months after Elizabeth's death. Them were few guests. In the circumstances of the recent devastation of Dundas's first family, a discreet wedding seemed appropriate. Dundas did not even inform his surviving son Robert, or 'Robin' as he was affectionately known, who was studying law at university in Utrecht, of his remarriage until three months after the fact. `I did not incline to owne my manage to any body,' he wrote. Robert Dundas's second marriage to Ann Gordon did not mean that he excluded David Watson, his fast wife's younger brother from his affections. On the contrary, Robert and Ann too continued to take an active interest in Watson's career In 1742 the Dunclases were behind an alteration in his pro-fession that capitalised on Watson's childhood love of maps. Dundas supplicated the Secretary of State for Scotland to help move his brother-in-law from the regular army to the Board of Ordnance. He successfully persuaded that minister to intercede with the Master-General of the Ordnance, and arranged for Watson to enter 'upon the Establishment of an Engineer'. David was instructed to `immediately come here', to London, to clinch the deal, and the Secretary of State reflected with satisfaction that this would be a good beginning' for him. By 1743, thanks to Dundas's endeavours, Watson had 

taken up his new post as a military engineer under the employment of the Board of Ordnance. He became adept at reconnaissance, plotting march routes that transported armies between destinations. And one of his principal concerns was map-making. 

    A DEPARTMENT KNOWN as the 'Office of Ordnance' had existed in Britain since the late fourteenth century. The Ordnance was an adjunct to the Royal Arsenal, which was housed at the Tower of London, a large complex of buildings on the north side of the river Thames. Responsible for the administration of the monarch's armaments, arsenals and fortified castles, the hotly was renamed in 1518 as the Board of Ordnance, a name that stuck for almost 350 years. Ordnance is abbreviated from ordinance, a complex word that covers a host of meanings, all united by a general sense of 'that which is ordered or ordained', but the word's foremost association was military. Ordinance, or the French ordonnance, denoted an army's arrangement in ranks or lines and most importantly the `ondinantia ad bellum', the military equipment, guns, cannons and explosives, for whose management the Board was responsible.

    The Board of Ordnance was an independent military body, separate from the Army. Where regular soldiers answered to the monarch, employees of the Ordnance received their instructions from the Board. This was similar to the Navy, who operated under the thumb of the Board of Admiralty. By the end of the seventeenth century, the Ordnance's responsibilities were beginning to separate into two principal areas: artillery and engineering. On 16 May 1717 this polarisation was made official. Two companies were raised in the Board of Ordnance: the Royal Artillery and the Corps of Engineers. Guns and cannons were the business of the first; fortifications and harbours that of the second, whose rank and file were known as the Sappers. The intellectual sophistication of the Ordnance's staff meant that the Engineers and the Artillery were later jointly known as 'the scientific corps'. 

Map-making was a responsibility, albeit a minor one, of both Ordnance companies. And it was also the concern of another separate body within the Board of Ordnance, which was tucked away in the White Tower at the heart of the Tower of London's complex. Here a Drawing ROCm could be found, in which a host of map draughtsman busied themselves. Comprised of civilians, not military men, from 1777 onwards young draughtsmen would train here from the age of eleven or twelve, receiving instruction in the conventions of military surveying and in mathematics, especially in trigonometry and geometry. To the Engineers, which David Watson entered, map-making was especially pertinent as a way of describing sites for fortifi-cations. A Royal Warrant of 1683 stipulated that a military engineer 'ought to be well skilled in all parts of the mathematicks, more particularly in Stereometry, Altimetry, and Geodesic, to take Distances, Heights, Depths, Surveys of Land, Measure solid bodies' and to 'keep perfect draughts of every fortifications, forts and fortresses of our Kingdom'. Over the course of the eighteenth century the Board of Ordnance's employees produced a col-lection of large-scale surveys of specific spots in the country that were demarcated for the erection of forts and harbours. For the senior officers involved in computation and advanced scientific techniques, its day-to-day work was mentally stimulating and could offer opportunities for travel across Great Britain, Europe, America, Canada and sometimes even further afield. Engineers had no choice but to roll up their sleeves and 'get their hands dirty', as the Corps often attracted those to whom practical work and fresh air were more important than dignity and reputation. It was a small operation and places were extremely limited, so prospective engineers with influential personal connections like David Watson exploited their advantage to the full. 

AFTER ATTAINING a sought-after place in the Corps of Engineers, David Watson was delighted to find himself posted to Flanders in June 1743 to support King George H's troops in the War of the Austrian Succession. 

Now in middle age, nearly forty years old, Watson was buoyant. He boasted a tall, athletic frame, large watchful eyes, a geometrically pleasing profile and a neat, determined mouth. Confident of his own abilities, and at ease in the presence of power, Watson achieved a degree of fame in Flanders by help-ing the King and his 25-year-old son William Augustus, the Duke of Cumberland, achieve a resounding victory against the French at the Battle of Dettingen. The Secretary of State for Scotland's private secretary reported excitedly that, although 'we do not live in an age, or in a land of Hems', nonetheless `Mr Watson has gained universal character in Flanders'. But Watson's sojourn did not last long. When the 1745 Jacobite Rebellion broke out, military commanders were initially reluctant to move soldiers deployed on the Continent back to Britain. 

    But as Charles Edward Stuart's army penetrated deeper into England, one panicky diplomat emphasised the severity of the situation. `The Pretender's son [has] near 3,000 rebels with new arms and French louis d'ors,' he angrily pointed out. 'We have not above 1,500 men [and] I cannot but wish for the return [of the army] without which I am certain we do not sleep in whole skins. Our danger is near and immediate, all our defence at a distance ... I bewilder myself in scenes of misery to come, unless providentially prevented.' So in autumn 1745 the British troops were finally recalled to fight the Jacobites on home territory and David Watson was among them.

    As the Jacobites retreated north, the King's soldiers followed in pursuit. Watson's commander, the Duke of Cumberland, offered him the role of Quartermaster General, which placed Watson in charge of army provisions. The winter of 1745 was bitterly cold and he was responsible for locating sufficient quantities of 'warm Jackets', adequate blankets, tents and new shoes for the rapidly moving troops. The Jacobite Rebellion convinced Watson that the rebels were aberrations, whose actions jeopardised 'the happyness this poor Country enjoy'd before the late irruption of these Barbarians'. 

   And in the wake of what he termed 'our Interview with the Rebels upon Coloden Moor', he became something of a Hanoverian hero, due to the ardour with which he rooted out Charles Edward Stuart's sur-viving followers. Watson was a superficially charming man, at ease in his tall  soldier's physique and possessed of a biting wit. His letters openly admitted the 'temptations of pleasure or game' that he found in the 'hunt' after the Jacobites, especially in pursuit of the prize prey of Lord Lovat and the Young Pretender. Watson engineered 'the destruction of the Ancient Seat of the Glengarry' clan and was sardonically confident that `the rest of the good people of Lochaber' who witnessed that violence will 'remember the Rebellion in the Year 46'. He was adamant that 'the Highlanders [are] the most despicable enemy that ever Troops melt with'. Once the immediate brutality was over, Watson dedicated himself over the months that followed to 'the sole motive of restoring quiet, by convincing the World that Rebellion and its Authors are to be come at in the most maccessable parts of the Highlands'. 

   He was among a number of government sympathisers who applied themselves to a long-term programme of Highland reform. Together with his brother-in-law Robert Dundas, and Dundas's son Robin, Watson formulated strategies to systematically sup-press Jacobite support, to destroy the loyalty that bound the clans together, to undermine Highland identity and to rebuild the region's infrastructure, driven by the ambition of unifying a hitherto divided Scotland and eradicating Jacobitism once and for all.  Like many, the three considered the Highlands to be 'lawless' and 'barbaric' regions, whose clan system kept individual citizens in thrall to their chiefs, cowed beneath robberies, assaults and threats from neighbouring clam. 

   In 1707 the Anglo-Scottish Union had constitutionally united England and Scotland into 'Great Britain', but it had only really succeeded in cementing sympathies between Lowland Scotland and England. The Highlands, with its autonomous legal system, language and culture, continued to be almost a separate nation. Watson and the Dundases were not by any means the only ones who pro-posed practical strategies to 'pacify' the Highlands in the wake of the rebellion. Suggestions from others included the disarming of the clans, the establishment of soldiers to police the region, the building of better roads and the confiscation of Jacobite estates 'for the purposes of civilizing, and promoting the happiness of the Inhabitants upon the said Estate ... by promoting amongst them the Protestant Religion, good Government, good Husbandry Industry and Manufactures'. Many considered that the Highland landscape was responsible for its inhabitants' rebellious behaviour. 

    Mountains and lochs formed natural barriers between clans, fostering a profound sense of community and dividing Highlanders from Lowland influence. One man felt that Highland chiefs were mirrors of their surroundings in more metaphorical ways too: both were useless, obstructive and terrifying 'Such Noblc-ano as these are like Barren Mountains, that bear neither Plants nor Grass for Publick Use,' he wrote.

    'They touch the Skie, but are unprofitable to the Earth.' Based on this assumption, Watson's voice was heard, over and over again, passionately and articulately asserting 'the Benefit [which] must arise from protecting the Highlands by the Regular Troops' and the need to 'arquir[e] a perfect knowledge of the Country'. Watson particularly sought to remedy the deficiency of geographical information about the Highlands under which the King's army had suffered before, during and after the 'Forty-Five'. Watson pointed out that his colleagues had 'found themselves greatly embarassed for want of a proper Survey of the Country' and he emphasised the vital need for a good map of Scotland to facilitate the open-ing up of hitherto inaccessible areas of the Highlands. Watson voiced his concerns persuasively to his commander, the Duke of Cumberland, who took the matter to his father, King George H. 

   It was later reported that 'the Inconvenience was perceived and the Resolution taken, for making a Compleat and accurate Survey of Scotland'. But Watson had no intention of trying to execute such a mission himself. Instead, he turned to a man over twenty years younger: a man with no evidence of formal training in map-making and apparently no history of military involvement. It was a curious choice, but it would prove inspired. 

   THE UPPER WARD of Lanarkshire is a quiet region, composed of tightly wooded dells and lush fields. In the seventeenth century these tran-quil slopes were the scene of violent clashes over the doctrine and organisation of the Scottish Church. Walter Scott's novel Old Mortality depicted a Lanarkshire whose 'broken glades' and 'bare hills of dark heath'  had been as dreadfully rent by those civil wars as by the ancient geological upheavals that, millennia earlier, had created the 'windings of the majestic Clyde'. In the wake of this century of turmoil, on 4 May 1726, a boy called William was born to Mary Stewart and her husband John Roy. Since the mid seventeenth century William Roy's grandfather and then his father had been employed at the estates of Hallcraig and Milton in the Upper Ward. 

   These lands were owned first by Sir William Gordon, the father of Robert Dundas's wife Ann Gordon, and then by Ann's brother, a rather obstre-porous lawyer called Charles Hamilton Gordon. The Roys lived in a small cottage on these estates' southern border called Miltonhead. This building and the estates' two mansions have since disappeared and the land now homes the Carluke Golf Club and, until fairly recently, an intricate Gothic mansion called Milton-Lockhart, which was the sometime home of Walter Scott's son-in-law and biographer, John Gibson Lockhart. The Roys were factors — land-stewards — and they managed the practical upkeep of the estates. An early-eighteenth-century guide to 'the Duty and Office of a Land Steward' described the many responsibilities of this position, which ranged from the relatively menial, such as trapping pests and catching poachers, to more onerous duties such as collecting tenants' rents, preventing subletting and ensuring the land was adequately farmed. 

   Surveying was a vital part of the jobs of Roy's father and grandfather 'It is necessary,' wrote one contemporary land-steward, `to know the quantity and quality of every parcel of land belonging to his lord's estate', and to do so he advised that the factor 'should have a correct map of the whole ... in which map, should be expressed every bend, corner, and irregular turn in the several hedges; all rivers, bridges, highways, gates, and stiles'. Other manuals to the land-steward's role emphasised that a is not only necessary that a Steward should be a good Accomptant, but also that he should have a tolerable Degree of Skill in Mathematicks, Surveying, Mechanicks, and Architecture'. 

    In 1987, after being bought by aJapanese actor, Milton-Lockhart was dismantled stone by stone. Once Mikhail Gorbachev had granted special permission, it was shipped in thirty con-miners on the Trans-Siberian Railway to Japan, where the mansion was reconstructed in woodland about a hundred miles from Tokyo. Renamed TAKIMeart Castle', it now hosts luxury boutiques and weddings. Although little documentation has survived from John Roy's employment at Hallcraig and Milton, the estate maps on which he relied were almost certainly constructed with two instruments, called a 'plane table' and an 'alidade'. An alidade was a mechanism that allowed an object to be brought within a straight line of eyesight, and developed from the historical astronomical instrument known as the astrolabe, which was used to determine latitude. Deriving from an Arabic word meaning 'ruler', early alidades consisted of two vanes, each of which contained a thin hole or slot (without lenses) which was placed at either end of a small bar. A plane table comprised a level surface mounted on a robust base, and it had been used in surveying since the sixteenth century, perhaps even earlier, and generally with an alidade. We can imagine William's father teaching the young boy to make a map of his employer's estate using these two instruments. John Roy would have first measured a small baseline in a field on the Hallcraig estate, a straight, flat distance whose length depended on the size of the land to be surveyed. He drew this base on a sheet of paper that was fastened onto the surface of the plane table, and positioned the table directly over one end of the actual baseline so that it was in perfect alignment with the marking of 5. Alidades. 

Robert Dundas of Arniston, the Elder.

Arniston House, designed by William Adam, 1726, completed in 1756.