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The Mitchell Map for South America.

The most ambitious printed map of South America produced in the eighteenth century, and by far its most authoritative, Juan de la Cruz Cano y Olmedilla’s Mapa Geográfico de América Meridional represents the high point of Bourbon Spain’s scientific cartography. Commissioned by the crown and produced under the direct supervision of the Ministry of State, the map was compiled from the secret geographic records of the Consejo de Indias, enriched by manuscript surveys and field reports from Jesuit missionaries, naval officers, and provincial administrators. Printed in Madrid in 1775 from twelve copper plates, it offers a detailed and remarkably accurate rendering of the continent.

This is an example of the first completed edition, the second overall state of the map, and one of only eight early examples recorded in Thomas R. Smith’s landmark 1966 study. The map is presented here in its intended full contemporary wash color, a feature not recorded on any of the other known early impressions.

Smith rightly compared Cruz Cano’s map to Dr. John Mitchell’s 1755 Map of the British and French Dominions in North America​​​​​​, noting that both were “large, detailed, beautifully engraved on copper, and based on careful compilation and discriminating use of source materials,” and that each “was not to be displaced for decades.” But while the Mitchell is relatively available, the Mapa Geográfico de América Meridional is almost never seen on the market. Suppressed soon after its initial issue and distributed in strictly limited numbers, it has not appeared at auction since 1970.

Development and Compilation

The Treaty of Tordesillas (1494) had long divided Spanish and Portuguese claims in South America, but by the eighteenth century those early demarcations had collapsed in the face of growing Portuguese incursions and administrative expansion into the interior. After the 1640 dissolution of the Iberian Union, Spain and Portugal once again faced unresolved boundary disputes, made increasingly urgent by the Bourbon crown's desire to exert scientific and administrative control over its dominions.

The primary architect of Spain’s response was Jerónimo Grimaldi, First Minister of State under Charles III, who in 1763 initiated a project to engrave a definitive large-scale map of Spanish South America. Early correspondence survives documenting his personal involvement, including a request to Spain’s representative in Paris for large-format grand aigle paper, unavailable in Madrid, “needed to print the plates which are being engraved by order of the King.” High-quality Dutch paper was acquired instead.

In charge of the creation of the map was Juan de la Cruz Cano y Olmedilla (1734–1790), a Madrid-born engraver and geographer, trained in Paris with Tomás López under the great French cartographer Jean-Baptiste Bourguignon d’Anville. While López went on to achieve greater fame, Cruz Cano’s career was no less significant. In 1767, after abandoning an initial plan to reproduce a manuscript map by Francisco Millau, Cruz Cano proposed an entirely new compilation based on original sources. He drew from 62 manuscript and printed maps in the Secretaría del Consejo de Indias and incorporated the findings of Jesuit cartographers, naval officers, and French models such as D’Anville and Bellin.

The lettering was engraved by Hipólito Ricarte, freeing Cruz Cano to concentrate on geographic content and decoration. Smith’s analysis details the records of payments made over the next decade, closely tracking the progress of each plate.

Printing and Suppression

Smith estimates that approximately fifteen proof copies were struck in October or November 1775, constituting the first state. Of these, only two are recorded: one in the Harvard Map Collection and another in the Ayer Collection at the Newberry Library, the latter dissected and mounted. This example represents the second state, printed in February 1776, in an edition of approximately 250 copies. According to a July 1776 invoice submitted by Cruz Cano, at least seven copies were colored and bound, likely for presentation to the King or high-ranking officials. This likely refers to those prepared for the Consultive Junta organized by Grimaldi and Aranda in advance of the Treaty of San Ildefonso (1777).

The most consequential revision between the proof and second state was the removal of a political boundary line, the so-called línea de límites, engraved across six of the eight geographic sheets. The boundary had delineated Spanish and Portuguese territorial claims under the Treaty of Madrid (1750) but was viewed as diplomatically hazardous, particularly because its path favored Portuguese claims in the Amazon and the disputed Misiones region. At the time, tensions between the two crowns were high: Spain and Portugal would enter open conflict in 1776 during the Second Cevallos Expedition in present-day Uruguay.

Smith notes that the removal of the boundary was a careful and deliberate act, likely executed under direct orders from the Ministry of State. Most of the engravings were subtly altered or burnished; only faint traces remain on a handful of plates. By the time the second edition appeared in early 1776, the politically charged line had been deleted entirely. Sheet 8, bearing the title and decorative cartouche, remained unchanged across all editions.

Jefferson and the Map's Prohibition

Despite its limited official distribution, Cruz Cano’s map quietly attracted international attention. While serving as Minister to France from 1785 to 1789, Thomas Jefferson became aware of the map’s significance and sought to obtain a copy for the United States. In letters to William Stephens Smith, secretary to the American legation in London, Jefferson described the difficulty and expense of acquiring the map, noting that Spain had forbidden its sale and had reportedly seized most copies in circulation. “The government in Spain,” he wrote in August 1786, “first permitted the map, but the moment they saw one of them come out, they destroyed the plates, seized all the few copies which had got out and on which they could lay their hands, and issued the severest injunctions to call in the rest.”

That same year, Jefferson succeeded in securing a copy through William Carmichael, the U.S. chargé d’affaires in Madrid. In a letter of September 29, 1786, Carmichael confirmed that the map “was executed by order of Government and some copies given in presents to Foreign Ambassadors, when suddenly from political motives the distribution and the sale was forbidden.” Jefferson’s copy was sent to London in December 1786 with instructions to commission an English edition. William Faden, Britain’s leading map engraver, agreed to the project, though the undertaking would be delayed for over a decade.

The Spanish government’s refusal to permit wider dissemination had stalled earlier efforts, but by the late 1790s, amid growing revolutionary sentiment in Spanish America and shifting European alliances, Jefferson’s initiative was revived under the auspices of Francisco de Miranda (who had fought in the American and French Revolutions and was then working on behalf of South American independence from Spain), who oversaw the eventual re-engraving. Faden’s map was finally published on 1 January 1799, stripped of the original map’s imperial symbolism. Though it closely follows Cruz Cano’s third state, the London edition reflects a different political agenda. Nonetheless, it was Jefferson’s early success in securing and transmitting the Madrid original that made possible its most famous derivative.

Rehabilitation and Legacy

By the 1790s, the political climate had changed. The plates, deposited in the Real Calcografía in 1789, were reassessed by Francisco Requena y Herrera, a leading Spanish expert on boundary demarcation. In 1802, Requena issued a favorable report on the map’s scientific accuracy and recommended its public release. Restrictions were lifted, and the map was quietly offered for sale by the Calcografía.

Smith's comparison of the Cruz Cano map with a 1948 base map by the American Geographical Society confirmed its remarkable geographic accuracy, particularly in the interior river systems. The map remained in diplomatic use for over a century. It played roles in:

• The 1873 Chile-Argentina border negotiations
• The 1894 arbitration by President Cleveland between Brazil and Argentina over the Misiones region
• The 1897–98 Venezuela–British Guiana dispute
• The 1899 arbitration between Brazil and French Guiana
• The 1903 Brazil–British Guiana case
• the 1906 Peru–Bolivia negotiations

Decorative Elements

The map’s visual impact is as impressive as its geographic scope. The title cartouche, located in the lower right, features an allegorical figure of America astride a crocodile, framed by a palm and topped by a floral garland. At the top, a flowing heraldic tableau includes the castle and lion of Castile and León, and at right, the double-headed eagle of the Habsburg Empire, accompanied by the arms of Spanish colonial ruling houses. Inset plans of Callao and Angostura are placed in the upper corners.

Conclusion

A cornerstone of Enlightenment cartography in the Spanish world, this map offers not only a definitive visual account of South America’s geography at the close of the colonial period, but also a document of imperial politics, diplomatic strategy, and scientific ambition. Its rarity, survival in early state, and original coloring elevate this example above any known in institutional holdings.