Author: Sophie Harberson

Link to Medieval Map!

Placing the itinerary of The Travels of Sir John Mandeville within the visual context of the Hereford Mappamundi helps to alleviate the confusing nature of both sources, independent of one another. While John Mandeville speaks to the importance of various places, the Mappamundi emphasizes the visual authority of a given person, group of people, or place. Nonetheless, both serve the same function of showing a Medieval Christian audience the far-reaching influence of Christianity in the known world.

Mandeville places his origin in St Albans, a city north of London and west of Hereford, where the Mappamundi has been on display for centuries. The origin of both the map and the text being in such close proximity to one another underscores their connection. With that being said, neither the Mappamundi nor Mandeville emphasizes England within the context of the known world. Mandeville seldom mentions his home country or its government, while the Mappamundi presents England as nondescript and sans marvels–a contrasting portrayal compared to other locations.

Constantinople is the first place Mandeville truly travels, receiving attention on account of its relevance to the author, who claims to be a Christian pilgrim. Mandeville predicates Constantinople’s importance on its Christian relics, in addition to the Church of Santa Sophia and its accompanying sculpture of the Emperor Justinian I. The Mappamundi includes Constantinople as well, labeling its location alongside a structure reminiscent of the Church of Santa Sophia. The continuity of the Church in both Mandeville and the Mappamundi highlights its status as a holy site within the Christian mind. 

The Hereford Mappamundi includes a myriad of Greek islands and cities, just as Mandeville enumerates in his travel account–Ephesus and Patera among them. Mandeville’s convention when describing Greek territories is to accentuate the difference between Greek Christians and his own concept of Christianity. Furthermore, he simultaneously recounts regional myths and Christian history, framing the intersection of pagan and Christian ideologies in the Medieval Mediterranean. There are several Classical references throughout the Mappamundi, complicating its function as a Christian storytelling device. These allusions, in tandem with Mandville’s own Classical education, reveal the literacy of both sources’ intended audience.

For Mandeville, Cyprus is an extension of his commentary on Greece as he highlights its strong Christian government, in addition to several holy sites on the island. He marks Cyprus as a crucial stop for travelers on their way to Jerusalem, and yet, the Mappamundi does not give Cyprus the same visual importance. Instead, it is largely unidentifiable, as the map seeks to spotlight marvels.

Another significant piece of continuity between The Travels of Sir John Mandeville and the Hereford Mappamundi is the placement of Jerusalem at the physical center of each source. Mandeville traces multiple routes to the Holy Land, while also addressing all of the Biblical and historical connections to the region. Similarly, the Mappamundi carves out space to showcase the crucifixion as well as a compass at Jerusalem. This strategic visual reminds the viewer what is most important: Christ.

The geography of Sicily in relation to Babylon is misconstrued by Mandeville and the Mappamundi. Both the text and the map mislabel Sicily’s location. Mandeville asserts that in order to get to Babylon, one must pass through Sicily, which is geographically counterproductive. On the other hand, the Mappamundi places Sicily west of Rome and south of Crete, neither of which are accurate. Its inclusion speaks to its importance within the Mediterranean world, but its misinterpretation–across both sources–demonstrates that neither Mandeville nor the craftsmen of the Mappamundi have acute geographical knowledge.

Egypt is a significant arena for marvels in the Mappamundi, which is aptly echoed in Mandeville’s account. The most fascinating parallel is the presence of a fauna on the map, and Mandeville’s anecdote about a half-goat, half-man being he allegedly encounters in Egypt. This is a blatant instance of Mandeville compiling content from other sources in his travel writings. That being said, Egypt is where Mandeville first describes people with dark skin. The Mappamundi does not focus on identifying ethnic or religious groups by skin color, but instead by physical characteristics, often represented through extremes and deformities.

India is an additional location where Mandeville and the Mappamundi overlap. Numerous times throughout his account, Mandeville describes the various people he meets with physical differences–one which being people with one large foot that encompasses their entire body. The Hereford Mappamundi has an illustration that perfectly coincides with Mandeville’s writing, in the same location: India. Similar to Egypt, Mandeville likely borrowed his description from the prior drawing on the Mappamundi.

Mandeville’s section on the Land of Gog and Magog is an extension of the anti-Semitic imagery depicted in the Hereford Mappamundi. In his writing, Mandeville asserts that the Land of Gog and Magog is where the Ten Tribes reside in the Caspian Mountains, labelling them as evil and inhumane. Additionally, he notes the numerous gryphons native to the region, which are also present within the map. The Mappamundi itself is full of various stereotypes of Jewish people, including Moses with horns and Jews worshipping a calf. These portrayals reflect the deep disdain certain Christian sects felt towards Judaism. The placement of Gog and Magog in the far East within both sources further ‘others’ the Jews they are intending to depict. Although Mandeville’s text and the Mappamundi are intended for a Christian audience, they are marred by their staunch anti-Semitism. 

The legend of Prester John is pervasive throughout various Medieval travel accounts and narratives. Mandeville himself falls into the trope, repeatedly alluding to Prester John, before finally describing him and his palace in Babylon. Prester John’s wealth and abundance is heavily emphasized by Mandeville. There are a few instances in which Mandeville references the Tower of Babel, but it is not a major talking point for him. On the other hand, the Mappamundi identifies Babylon by the Tower, emphasizing its function as a Biblical setting  rather than settling for the city’s connection to a fictional person.

Both The Travels of Sir John Mandeville and the Hereford Mappamundi have several shared narratives, images, and stereotypes. Each source reinforces the function of the other, helping the audience to understand what it means to be a Christian in 14th century Europe. The spatial awareness of those in this era was broadly limited, and yet, to know about a different place, in any capacity, distinguished oneself. That being said, the target audience members for both the text and the Mappamundi were Christian, English people equipped to read, write, and work. The prospect of journeying to such faraway places like Mandeville was impossible to most. Thus came the ability to pursue a mental pilgrimage alongside this book and this map.

John Mandeville begins his account of India by detailing the ‘natural’ tendencies of those living in the region. To frame his description, Mandeville mentions the Indus River that travels through the area, giving the country of India its name. Mandeville then notes the presence of thirty-foot eels in the Indus River, before describing the people of India as ugly with a yellow-green complexion. By listing the eels ahead of the civilians, Mandeville frames Indian people and their customs as inherently animalistic. He talks about conventions of nudity in India, explaining how the heat influences men to walk around nude, thus weakening their bodies. Mandeville asserts that the need to cool oneself from the heat dictates daily life. He draws a parallel to what he claims to have observed in Ethiopia, telling his reader that men and women often lie naked in the river, and that women are unashamed to do this around men. Once again, Mandeville marks this practice as ugly because he himself is made uncomfortable by it.

Mandeville tethers their daily practices to India’s climate, remarking they live beneath Saturn, which is inherently slow-moving. Mandeville believes that because of this, people are not inclined to leave India. He compares their leisure, or laziness, to the unquenchable desire for people from his country to travel. Mandeville attributes this to England being ruled by the moon, which moves quickly, thus breeding people to live productive, worldly lives. This construction of us vs. them, between himself and the people of India, indicates Mandeville’s racism. Since Mandeville’s account is fictional, his descriptions are rooted in his own bias about a place he has never been and people he has never met.

Mandeville spends a great deal of time talking about the distinction between simulacrums and idols, labelling one as natural and the other as unnatural. To Mandeville, worshipping simulacrums is equivalent to worshipping a hero. He references Hercules and Achilles as apt examples, noting they are beloved by God on account of their marvelous deeds. On the other hand, worshipping idols includes praying to animals that signal a good omen, such as an ox or a snake. Mandeville notes that people build small idols to worship in their homes as an extension of this practice.

As Mandeville, theoretically, journeys throughout the isles surrounding India, he refers to the cities of Baroch, Bandinanah, and Cranganur as fine and good cities on account of their strong Christian populations. He argues the land’s fertility is directly connected to the presence of Christians, mirroring prior accounts of his travels, where a strong government was tied to a Christian leader. Mandeville lists the various fruits, spices, and peppers native to this region, providing flowery descriptions of each category. This embellishment is an attempt to establish his own legitimacy before referencing his greatest marvel yet: the fountain of youth. Mandeville claims that he himself drank from the fountain three times on an empty stomach and was made forever healthy. Mandeville’s mention of the fountain of youth in India aligns with Medieval conventions that the East is closer to Paradise. Mandeville’s description of India signals that the region’s breadth of natural resources is on account of its proximity to Paradise, incentivizing his reader to travel east.

John Mandeville begins his account of Egypt by taking a page from Caesar’s book. But rather than saying, “Gallia est omnes divisa in partes tres,” Mandeville asserts, “Egypt is divided into two parts.” By marking these distinct regions, Mandeville associates them with specific ethnographic details, leaving behind his previous custom of merely listing place after place.

Most of Mandeville’s geographical knowledge of Egypt is based on the Nile River. Mandeville describes that Egypt is home to both fertile and barren lands based on proximity to the river. He expresses his own concerns about the region’s climate, noting that though Egypt is a desert, the land is inundated by the river several times a year. By his description, it is apparent that such a contrast of desert and flooding, in the same country, is unfamiliar to Mandeville.

On the same note of the unfamiliar, Egypt is the first instance in which Mandeville explicitly recounts meeting people with dark skin: the Nubians. He details them as being black in color while also being Christian, and that they believe a darker complexion to signify beauty. Mandeville believes that the Nubians’ skin color is directly tethered to the heat of the region in which they live. Mandeville says that if the Nubians could, they would paint an angel in black and a devil in white. Additionally, Mandeville states that if people are not dark enough when they are born that they are essentially doctored to become darker. The choice to include a racial description of the Nubians within Mandeville’s fictionalized journey reflects the author’s intention to highlight ‘the other.’ Although there is no indication that the Nubians are practicing Christianity incorrectly, by describing their cultural values in opposition to Mandeville’s, their status as Christians is negated.

Similar to other places he travels, Mandeville incorporates local myth within his account of Egypt. He highlights the city of Heliopolis, ‘the city of the sun.’ He tells his reader that Heliopolis is home to a round temple–similar to the Temple at Jerusalem–with a sacred book harboring the details of the Phoenix. Mandeville details the role of the priest in the arrival of the Phoenix and the preparation of the temple’s altar with various spices and twigs. The intention of the ceremony is for the Phoenix to burn itself upon the altar, before recuperating and flying back to its home on the third day. Mandeville acknowledges the similarity between the Phoenix and Jesus Christ, being that there is only one of each, and both rise from the dead on the third day.

Although this myth is not categorically Christian, it is included to echo Christian ideology while drawing on pagan customs. Mandeville goes on to describe the Phoenix as bird-like, remarking that if a man sees it fly overhead that he will have good fortune. This idea draws upon earlier, Greek conventions of eagles flying over one’s shoulder to signify a good omen.

Mandeville’s account of Egypt reflects both the author’s bias and ability to connect unexpected locations to the text’s Christian purpose.

While John Mandeville often blurs myth and reality in his travel account, his description of Cyprus is anchored by fact, emphasizing the island’s historical relevance within the Medieval mind. 

Before detailing his account of Cyprus, Mandeville references the once-great city of Adalia, associating it with a regional myth. He explains that a young man once happened upon the tomb of a beautiful young woman, and laid down beside her before continuing his journey. In a dream, the man was told to revisit the grave or else he would experience great suffering. And yet, when the tomb was reopened, an ugly head escaped and terrorized the city, causing it to sink. Mandeville asserts that this story is the reason for dangerous waterways in the region. The inclusion of this myth serves two purposes: to explain a natural phenomenon and to provide a contrast ahead of Mandeville’s glowing account of Cyprus.

For Mandeville, Cyprus’ importance relies on its status as a Christian nation and its proximity to Jerusalem. Thus, he spends more time highlighting the ethnographic details of Cyprus than he did in previous locations. At the beginning of this chapter, Mandeville mentions Cyprus’ strong vines and noble wine, noting the wine is originally red, but that with each year it becomes whiter, and eventually runs clear. Mandeville associates the visual purification of the wine as a marker of strength. The wine serves as a metaphor for the power and longevity of Christian rule in Cyprus.

Furthermore. Mandeville’s account accentuates Cyprus’ organization. He introduces Cyprus as a large island home to four major cities, three bishops, and one archbishop. Mandeville is clearly impressed by Cyprus’ unity in faith, despite its size, before enumerating several Christian references. He tells his reader about the Mountain of the Holy Cross and the abbey of monks that resides there, in addition to the Castle of Amours, where the bodies of Saint Genovefe and Saint Hilarion lie. Mandeville contends that the Cross of Our Lord is not indeed in Cyprus, contrary to popular knowledge. This assertion reflects Mandeville’s commitment to fact in his description–an attempt to establish his credence as a writer. 

Notably, Cyprus coincides with Mandeville’s first description of hunting and eating practices. He remarks that men hunt with papions, leopard-like cats, that are well-equipped at capturing beasts. He distinguishes papions by their agility and size, in comparison to dogs and lions. Additionally, Mandeville underscores that all men in Cyprus eat their food on the ground because of the heat. And yet, in the presence of foreigners, they eat at tables. Mandeville suggests that although their dining customs are different, that they serve a function to those who practice them.

Mandeville’s account of Cyprus identifies the island as an important stop on the way to the Holy Land. Cyprus’ status as both a major trade hub and as a historically Christian-ruled region makes it significant to Mandeville’s journey. As Mandeville’s travels bring him closer to the Holy Land, he focuses on locations that support his mission as a Christian pilgrim.

The Travels of Sir John Mandeville: Mapped

Marvels (Purple): For Mandeville, Constantinople, Ephesus, and Cyprus all present an intersection of various themes such as Christianity, geopolitics, and customs. Thus, Mandeville describes them with a contrasting tone to the islands and cities he rattles off throughout his account. These locations are distinct in that they are not solely Christian, but places with individuals whose practices differ from Mandeville. In all three locations, Mandeville references a time in which Christians controlled the city, but acknowledges that in every instance, that is no longer the case. Nonetheless, these places retain a certain level of importance based on their relics and sites.   

Christian (Red): Chios, Patmos, Marc (Myra), and Rhodes are among the several locations Mandeville connects primarily to Christianity. They receive less attention from Mandeville because they are already relevant within the Christian mind. The figures Mandeville associates with these locations, such as Saint John the Evangelist and Saint Nicholas, are known by his audience. Thus, Mandeville seeks to connect the dots rather than overembellish as he does in his description of the ‘Marvels’. Additionally, at these more typical Christian stops, Mandeville references trees and wine practices, underscoring the tradition of wine and the widespread influence of Christianity in the Mediterranean and Asia Minor. 

Regional Myths: Lango and Adalia present differently than many of Mandeville’s other descriptions. Rather than connecting them back to himself, his audience, and their shared Christianity, in Lango and Adalia, Mandeville tells the regional myth of each location. This practice not only reflects Mandeville’s appreciation for other cultures’ origins, but an awareness that his reader will want to hear about something totally new. Rather than explicitly condemning these myths, Mandeville legitimizes their function within their associated culture. 

Walking Route (Blue Line): Outlines the route from place to place, ‘by foot’.

Bodies of Water/Waterways (Yellow): The bodies of water and waterways Mandeville mentions when travelling between these locations.

Land and Water Route (Pink Line): A route that shows the progression from one location to the next, including the bodies of water/waterways that Mandeville mentions.

From Constantinople, the fictional John Mandeville outlines his travels to Greek islands–still on his way to the Holy Land. This section of The Travels of Sir John Mandeville builds upon the narrator’s identification of Greek Christians as different from the Western Christians within Mandeville’s audience. He asserts the necessity of this distinction, writing, “For many people take great pleasure and comfort to hear talk of unfamiliar things” (14). This statement reflects both Mandeville’s bias and his purpose for writing a travel account. Aside from the trees on the island of Chios, he does not provide ethnographic details about Greece. This choice focuses Mandeville’s account on the importance of religious sites rather than the people who inhabit them.

Thus, Mandeville spends more time writing about locations integral to Christian memory. To Mandeville, the importance of a place is dependent upon what event happened there. While less significant places are merely listed, many locations are denoted by an associated Christian figure or relic. Furthermore, Mandeville takes more time to address the most relevant places and their story, whether historical, mythical, or Biblical. Mandeville associates Patmos with being, “where Saint John the Evangelist wrote the Apocalypse” (14). Rather than talking about the island’s terrain or people, Mandeville instead tells his reader about Saint John–quickly shifting his location to Ephesus, where Saint John died.

Mandeville describes Ephesus more than the preceding Greek islands, signaling its value to his audience. He calls it, “a lovely city” (14), on account of the fact that it was once controlled by Christians. To Mandeville, the hallmark of Ephesus is the tomb of Saint John and the mysterious whereabouts of his body. Similar to the provenance of the relics he encountered in Constantinople, Mandeville highlights that the story of Saint John’s tomb is contentious. He notes that, “some men say that his body was translated to Paradise” (14), while others believe, “he did not die but that he is resting there until the Day of Judgement” (14). By addressing various conclusions to the question of Saint John’s tomb, Mandeville maintains the site’s relevance, making it contemporary to his reader rather than solely historical.

Beyond Ephesus, Mandeville briefly accounts for Patera, the birthplace of Saint Nicholas, and its wine, before writing about the island of Lango. In contrast to previous locations, Mandeville’s description of Lango is tethered to regional myth. He outlines the presumed origin of the island, noting it to be, “Hippocrates’ daughter in the form of a dragon” (15). Mandeville goes on to detail a story about a young maiden being transformed into a dragon, with only a bold, brave knight able to save her. Similar to his description of holy, Christian relics and sites, Mandeville constructs an ultimatum of fate. If the young maiden is kissed by the right knight, she will no longer be a dragon. Similarly, if Saint John is in his tomb, when the Day of Judgement arrives, he will reappear. The ‘if’ within Mandeville’s account adds a layer of intrigue, positioning him as a storyteller rather than a travel expert.

Although Mandeville is less receptive to the customs of Greek Christians, this section illustrates his appreciation for explanations different than his own. Since Mandeville’s account is not rooted in fact, the power of a place is dependent on its associated myth–whether secular, pagan, or Christian. Though this account tracks Mandeville’s journey to Jerusalem, he does not condemn the stories of other cultures, but embraces them. Mandeville bridges the gap between his travels and his reader by underscoring the continuous, cross-cultural practice of storytelling.

The Travels of Sir John Mandeville begins with the author’s arrival in Constantinople. Mandeville traces his route, from his home country of England, westward across borders, waters, and hills to reach the many holy sites he seeks. In the prologue, the author identifies himself, his nationality, and his mission. As a Christian, English knight, Mandeville has both the means to travel and the ethos required to talk about it. Mandeville is making a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and thus, his travel narrative is framed within the Christian mind. 

The geographical information Mandeville supplies is limited to place names, kingdoms, and river sizes–negating the text’s status as a pure travel account. Mandeville asserts that his writings are intended to enumerate each stop a Western man will encounter on his way to the Holy Land. In recounting his visit to Constantinople, Mandeville does not write about specific people he meets. Instead, he connects the place to prominent, Christian historical figures, both political and biblical. Thus, Constantinople’s ethnography is secondary to the city’s relics, monuments, and buildings.

The first landmark Mandeville details is the Church of Saint Sophia. Mandeville’s description accentuates the sculpture of Justinian I that precedes the church. His emphasis on Justinian signifies that the sculpture’s physical position–in front of an ornate church–mirrors Mandeville’s own focus on preserving Christian tradition amidst an evolving global landscape. 

Mandeville utilizes Christian iconography as a metaphor for geopolitical disputes. This coincides with Mandeville’s commentary on the Justinian statue–describing its gilded exterior and the Emperor’s authority atop his horse. Mandeville notes that there should be an apple in the hand of Justinian, and that its absence represents the territories lost under his rule. 

Nonetheless, Mandeville predicates Constantinople’s importance on its Christian relics. He tells his audience about the Holy Sponge given to Jesus by the Jews during his crucifixion, as well as the Cross of Christ. Mandeville acknowledges discrepancies about the Cross’ whereabouts, before confirming that he saw it in Constantinople and providing extensive details about its materials and inscriptions. Mandeville emphasizes that these relics were all brought to Constantinople and come from various origins. This fact detracts from the city’s relevance to Christianity, presenting Constantinople as a place with holy objects rather than an inherently holy place.

The fall of the Byzantium informs Mandeville’s reception of Greek culture in Constantinople. Mandeville delineates the customs of Greek Christians and how they differ from his own–one of which being the presence of facial hair. Though Mandeville does not explicitly condemn their practices, he notes that this sect of Christians is not unified with the Catholic Church, thus detracting from its legitimacy to Western Christians. Mandeville repeatedly alludes to previous periods of Greek history, from the Macedonians to Aristotle, suggesting he is surprised by the Greeks he comes into contact with.

Mandeville’s chronicle of Constantinople is both rich in Christian history and lacking in critical details about the location itself. The author’s extensive wisdom of Christian relics in Constantinople speaks to both his own education and the literacy of his audience. Additionally, the vagueness of the physical and spatial information Mandeville provides suggests that his reader has a conceptual grasp of his route. Although his geographical descriptions are bleak, Mandeville staunchly aligns his location with this vocation as a Christian pilgrim, placing his religious beliefs ahead of worldly pleasures.