Category: John Mandeville (Page 2 of 2)

Sir John Mandeville’s description of Egypt, the longest description he has given to anywhere, is quite interesting. He still maintains his steady flow of biblical references, of places to which pilgrims might be interested in visiting, but here he also seems interested in adding more ethnographic and historical detail, either sourced from previous accounts or simply invented whole cloth. The subject of the Sultan of Egypt takes up much of his description. He tells that this Sultan rules over five kingdoms (Egypt, called Canopat, Jerusalem, Syria, Aleppo, and Arabia) and provides references to previous rulers or places to help ground this information for his audience. Mandeville then goes on to list the Sultanate’s line of succession, though most of the names he gives are garbled, such as Melechinasser. He also adds references his European audience would be familiar with, such as which European king fought which Sultan, Richard the Lionheart and Saladin for example. Mandeville wants his audience to follow his story, so giving them context for a list of foreign rulers in a land they are completely unfamiliar with aids in one’s understanding of the exotic locations discussed.

Mandeville also writes about the Sultan’s power and court. For example, he claims that the Sultan has three wives (one of which must be a Christian) and can have as many lovers as he pleases, and that he can “lead more than twenty thousand soldiers out of Egypt, and more than fifty thousand soldiers out of Syria, Turkey, and other realms subject to him. These passages must be his invention. How could a person who has never even seen Egypt know how many soldiers he can raise or how his court operates? Mandeville keeps up his persona, though, even claiming that he was a mercenary for the Sultan for a long time. He ads that the Sultan wanted him to marry a local princess and thus abjure his faith, but he refused. This, along with the Sultan’s Christian wife, displays Mandeville’s attitude that the Islamic world poses a sexual challenge to Christians that must be resisted.

A lot of his information about Egypt comes from the Bible and related Christian writings and lore. He identifies the pyramids as “Joseph’s Barns,” a reference to the book of Genesis where Joseph has grain stored for the coming seven years of famine. The association of the pyramids and Joseph’s Barns was long established in Christian writing, and Mandeville repeats what he has read about to his own audience. Interestingly, he notes that some people say the pyramids are tombs, though Mandeville rejects this as baseless. He throws out the correct explanation to reaffirm the commonly held Christian belief about Egypt. Mandeville also borrows information from more secular sources. He regurgitates a story about the phoenix which is said to come to a temple in the city of Heliopolis to regenerate, which he took from a popular description of the mythical animal in a Bestiary. He also provides an ‘Egyptian’ alphabet which shows at least some awareness of Coptic. Mandeville’s description of foreign places is predicated on what information he had access to in Europe, demonstrating his genuine scholarship and curiosity, though to a point. He may be interested in distant places, but not enough to actually ensure what he is writing down is correct. He is willing to trust the established authorities (such as the Bible and previous Christian authors) and in so doing repeats their misinformation to a whole new audience.

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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.

After leaving Constantinople, the next place John Mandeville describes in detail is the island of Cyprus. Mandeville, writing for the benefit of prospective pilgrims, for the most part maintains his religious focus when describing the island. He informs his readers that there is an archbishop at Nicosia, along with four others in the region. Along with this he says that in Cyprus there is the Hill of the Holy Cross of the good thief Dysmas, along with the burial sites of St Sozomenos, an ecclesiastical historian, and St Hilarion, and that St Bernard was born near the city of Famagusta on the island. Pilgrims using Mandeville’s book as a guide for their own journeys would surely find such information useful, as they were on the look out for places to display their piety. Mandeville even warns pilgrims that the locals advertise that they have half of the Holy Cross upon which Jesus was crucified, but it is a fraud and that they sin by saying so.

Mandeville does, however, include more practical and secular information about Cyprus as well. In fact, the first thing he says about the island is that a variety of grapes which start red and turn white after a year grow there, and that these grapes are “…utterly translucent and have the best scent.” Descriptions of local produce like this have not been mentioned before, so it is interesting that he would want to include it here. Mandeville also informs us that the city of Famagusta has an excellent harbor and that “…Christians, Saracens, and people of all nations live there.” It is interesting to note how matter of fact the zealous Mandeville talks about the island’s Muslim inhabitants. On top of this he describes how the Cypriots hunt with papiouns, a type of big cat similar to a leopard though modern scholars do not know what it could actually be. Mandeville also reports that Cypriots eat on the ground in massive ditches dug for that purpose up to the knees. He says this is because it keeps food more fresh in the hot climate of the island, though when foreigners come for great feasts they set up tables for them, but would prefer eating on the floor.

Because Mandeville is an invented character and did not actually go to Cyprus, it is difficult to tell if any of the information he relays is true. The strange eating custom could be something the author heard from someone else and believed it, but just as easily be something he decided would be fun to make people believe. The fact scholars have no idea what a papiouns is, and that Mandeville claims Cypriots use these animals which he says are larger than lions to hunt is too strange to believe. Which begs the question of what he gains from making this up? He seems to sincerely want people to be informed about the pilgrimage route and where to stop on the way by the fact he warns readers where frauds are, but his own fraudulent information seems to work against this stated goal. This disconnect continues down to smaller details: usually light on the practicalities of travel, he claims Cyprus is nearly 500 miles from Rhodes. No it isn’t, the distance is much closer to 300 miles. It may be an innocuous detail, but it seems strange to me that he feels the need to include such a detail when he never has before, and it is just plain wrong.

The ink that John dedicates to Persia is significantly less than he has dedicated to Jerusalem. While this may seem, in and of itself, to be marvelous as Persia takes up significantly more space, and the travels through the lands of Persia must’ve taken John several long months, if not longer. To see his meager two pages in which he attempts to cover all of the geographical and political observations that he must necessarily have made during this time traveling through distant lands must seem absurd until we realize perhaps the most important facts about Sir John Mandeville. The first is that he is not real. He is a fictitious character invented by a monk who imagined a knight’s pilgrimage across the southeastern quarter of the world. This explains why “John” has so few accounts of the practical or physical aspects of his journey or accounts of the temporality of the journey. It also explains the lack of time dedicated to this section; rather than having spent several months hard journey through this land, he’s spent none at all. Additionally, it is not across a canyon, which we need to make the logical leap across that a monk would have more ready access to information on the lands of Jerusalem than he would of the lands of Persia. This would also explain the overwhelming focus on broader geography; when one has a globe in front of them, it is much easier to write, “the land of Ethiopia borders to the east with the Great Desert, west to the land of Nubia…” (104) rather than the observations that a man who is travelling through these lands must necsesarily make such as the mountain passes which divide these lands and the rivers that one must ford to reach the lands of the Great Khan.

There is one section that John, as I will continue to call him in spite of his fictitious nature, seems to find most interesting. John writes of the “Land of Darkness”, which is three days across and covered with the thickest of fogs so that none dare travel within this region, and yet the locals speak of the words of men, the whines of horses, and the sound of birds from within. John writes, “they know well that people are living there, but they don’t know what kind of people.” (103). The story of the land of darkness is of persecuted Christians saved by the hand of God, which ends with their freedom to travel as they wish. This story must be very appealing to a people whose faith calls upon them to travel far from the safety and comfort of their homes, and yet it is hard for me to stomach that this author believed in such tales. Rather than make the journey himself and rely on the power of his God and the strength of his beliefs to carry him through the lands of his enemies, he saw it fit to stay with the safety of his monastery. Showing that he is writing for those making pilgrimages but drawing into question his own religious fervor.

What the author seems to be focused on here is solely how the surrounding land is connected to his faith. His descriptions of the appearance of the terrain are sorely lacking; even when he does deign to focus on the terrain, his description of it is riddled with Christian superstition. He writes of the Dead Sea, “Neither man nor living beast is able to die in it … if one throws in a piece of iron it comes up again, and if one throws in a feather, it sinks to the bottom and that is against nature.” (Madeville 51). What we would attribute to the high salt content of the water, John would attribute to the “wrath of a vengeful god”. His description of the people is practically nonexistent, save for brief descriptions of how people worship; even his description of how he was able to enter the Sacran temple is kept only to the fact that he was able to pass into the temple, where others, Jewish people and Christian people, were turned away for he had with him a document with the chief seal of the Sultan upon it. His description of the physical environment and that of his own physical journey is rough and scattered at best. While one could supposedly make some crude calculations regarding the time it took to travel and the paths he used, the author fails to supply them for us. Likewise, in the realm of the details of his lodging, the weather, the food, the clothing, the author seems to gloss over these points entirely in favor of the continued description of the holy places which he visits. We may, on this point, make the assumption that what was important to him and to his culture was reverence for the Christian god above all else. Given his extensive reading on the location and the surrounding holy places, nothing seems to come as a great surprise to the author. The only particularly unusual thing that he pays any great head to is the Dead Sea, and even then, he is more appalled rather than shocked at the water and the fruits which turn to ash under the blade of his knife.

The author’s intended audience can be made readily apparent in the way in which he speaks of his own faith. On page forty-one, John writes that “you should know that when He died Our Lord was aged thirty-three years and three months.” (Mandeville 41), seeming to both indicate his own belief in Christianity and suggest that his intended reader would share in his beliefs; this can be seen in both the capitalization of “He” when John refers to the Christian God and his use of “Our Lord”. This can also be seen in his focus on the Holy Sepulchre (the tomb of Jesus), Mount Calvary (where Jesus died), and indeed in his knowledge of and reference to the prophecy of David. He shows not only a base understanding of the words written but also of the historical context surrounding the prophecy in his calculation of Christ’s age. Additionally, his focus on the terrain and the cities surrounding Calvary would surely be of no small use to those who would seek to make their own pilgrimage. Thus, we may reasonably assume that he is writing, at the very least, in the beginning of his entry on Jerusalem, to reasonably well-educated Christians who intend to make their pilgrimage to the site upon which their lord met his death.

The first place Sir John Mandeville describes at length on his journey to the Holy Land is the city of Constantinople and the surrounding lands belonging to the Byzantine Empire. Mandeville seems mainly concerned with religion; the first thing he notes about the city is the Hagia Sophia, which he misidentifies as dedicated to St. Sophie. Outside, he describes an equestrian statue of the Emperor Justinian which he says used to hold an apple but had since fallen off, mirroring how the Byzantine Empire had lost much of its territory.  Mandeville moves on to describe the many relics housed in Constantinople, such as one of the nails that held Jesus on the Cross and half of the crown of thorns which he says was actually made of sea rushes. In this passage, Mandeville takes long asides to inform the reader on various bits of lore about these relics. He says the Cross was made from four different kinds of wood, that the other half of the crown is in Paris, and more. Along with relics, Mandeville recounts the many saints that are buried in the city such as St Anne, St John Chrysostom, and St Luke. Aside from these Religious matters, he details other buildings in Constantinople, such as the city’s walls, cisterns, and beautiful palace which he says is for jousting.

Along with Constantinople, Mandeville talks about other parts of Greece. He lists many islands such as Chalcis and Lemnos, as well as the famous mountains of Olympus and Athos, the latter of which he claims is so high that no animals can live there and ink never fades. His account is also punctuated with lore from Ancient times. He says that nearby to Constantinople is a plain where the city of Troy used to be, makes note of Aristotle’s tomb at Stagira to which people worship like he were a saint, and tells of an inscription supposedly made by Hermes Trismegistus.

On the subject of the people living there, Mandeville simply says that “There are many languages spoken and nations obedient to the Emperor, to wit Turcopoles, Pechenegs, and Cumans, and Thrace and Macedonia (of which Alexander was king), and many others. The ethnographic detail that most interests him is the differences between Catholicism and Greek Orthodoxy, which he says is very different. He says that Greeks believe the Holy Ghost only proceeds from the Father, that they do not venerate the Pope as Christ’s vicar on Earth and are scornful of any attempt to get them to, and that they practice lent and other feasts and sacraments differently. Mandeville makes sure to note that corruption is not limited to the Western Church, as scandals like simony take place.

Because this section of the book is framed as a pilgrimage, and that he claims that he especially wishes for people that want to go on one to read it, it is no wonder that Mandeville is so preoccupied with religion in his description of Constantinople and the Byzantine Empire. A prospective pilgrim would read the work with an eye to what places they could stop and worship at, and those that could only go on pilgrimages by reading such works would be grateful of the descriptions and the details of Christian lore that Mandeville sprinkles throughout. The differences in Western and Eastern Christianity would also be of interest to his religiously motivated audience, not just himself. He is also clearly writing for a literate audience, who would be familiar with his references to the Trojan War and Aristotle. As he notes, Greece is the first region where cultural and religious differences are quite visible, which he says is intriguing for many people to learn about. This anthropological curiosity overrides other concerns, with Mandeville silent on the physical aspect of travel aside from listing cities one passes on the journey. He does not describe how long he spent, where he stayed, the food, etc. Mandeville simply is not interested in describing them.

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.