Category: Uncategorized (Page 2 of 3)

Benjamin of Tudela’s description of Tyre reveals begins with the tangible aspects of travel: Tyre, he notes, is “situated upon the shore of the sea, and is a very strong city.” His observations of the city’s fortifications and maritime position reflect a pragmatic eye, one trained to notice strategic and commercial advantages. The mention of Tyre’s strength and its coastal geography situates it within the interconnected network of trade and pilgrimage routes that structured twelfth-century travel. Yet for Tudela, geography is never merely physical; it is also a map of diaspora. Tyre’s Jewish population—he records about four hundred Jews, led by “R. Ephraim, R. Meir, and R. Abraham”—anchors his attention as much as the city’s walls.

Benjamin’s descriptions of people and place often merge into a single concern: continuity. In Tyre, he catalogues not just who is there, but how they live and how they maintain ties to wider Jewish traditions. His focus on names, occupations, and religious leadership suggests a chronicler invested in documenting communal stability in foreign environments. This emphasis on local leadership also gestures toward Benjamin’s intended readership: fellow Jews scattered across the Mediterranean who might find reassurance in the persistence of recognisable structures of learning and worship. Tyre thus becomes both a waypoint and a proof of endurance.

Culturally, Benjamin’s account of Tyre reflects a dual consciousness typical of diasporic writing. On one level, he writes as a participant within Jewish networks of trade and kinship; on another, he acts as an ethnographer observing foreign societies. His attention to Tyre’s prosperity—its “fine buildings” and “commerce in glass”—signals respect for non-Jewish urban vitality, but his narrative remains centered on the Jewish presence within that landscape. The description therefore performs a subtle act of cultural integration: Tyre is both part of the Christian and Muslim eastern Mediterranean and an extension of Jewish geography. Benjamin’s itinerary transforms disparate local communities into nodes of a transnational religious identity. His mention of the “Sea of Tyre” situates his journey in physical space, but his careful recording of rabbis’ names situates it in cultural time—a record of continuity across distance.

When Benjamin reaches Jerusalem, his tone changes. The rhythm of his cataloging slows, and his writing takes on a weight that isn’t there elsewhere. Jerusalem, unlike Tyre or Damascus, is less a destination than it is a gravitational center. He describes its gates, its markets, and its sacred sites — the Temple Mount, the Western Wall — and these physical markers all orbit a sense of spiritual loss. He observes that only a small number of Jews remain in the city, living “at the foot of the Temple area,” sustained by devotion more than circumstance. Benjamin’s perspective here is full of reverence but also realism. He records the Christian and Muslim presences in Jerusalem without overt hostility, noting the coexistence of pilgrimage and power. But his attention to the few Jews who remain exposes the paradox of return: what it means being present in the Holy City but still displaced.

https://www.google.com/maps/d/u/0/edit?mid=10jP02oRDg4_oDEd_oAjCnYmqxVhKAQI&usp=sharing

Link to map: https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=1082MP0YP3BZxcec2I4clQzskHm2Z1_w&usp=sharing.

Key:

I chose to divide up the locations on my map by how they are described by Mandeville. As he never actually traveled to these places, it is interesting to note what he attributes to these places. Therefore, I color-coded them based on this metric.

I used grey for places that get no real description. These are only given a sentence at best, and some are just invoked to give a sense of direction to the journey. Adrianople, for example, is simply put in a list of places one has to go to on the way to Constantinople. The other such locations are the city of Nicaea and the island of Kos.

Green is used for places Mandeville describes for something to do with nature. On Chios, he says, are found mastic trees which grow like plum or cherry trees. He also describes how a strong wine is made in Myra, but its description shares importance with the next category which is…

Red for religion. Because Mandeville’s book is meant for prospective pilgrims, this takes up a lot of time in his descriptions. He says Myra is important for being the place where St. Nicholas was elected Bishop. More time is given to places like the island of Patmos and the city of Ephesus. The former is where St John the Evangelist wrote the Apocalypse and the later where St John died and was buried. His tomb still can be found in the city, but his body was taken to heaven leaving behind only manna, though some say he is still resting there till the day of Judgment.

Yellow is used for a non-religious fable. Again, Mandeville never actually travelled to these places, so it is interesting to note when he completely makes something up. For example, he says the city of Satalia (modern Antalya) was a ruin because a monster, birthed because of an act of necrophilia, forced the people to abandon it. Far from being true, Satalia was actually a major city during the period.

Finally, purple denotes a place where Mandeville dedicates a substantial amount of description. The first such place is Constantinople, the capital of the Byzantine Empire. Mandeville describes the many Christian holy sites and other places of interest to pilgrims, such as a miraculous golden plate confessing belief in Jesus far before he was born. The other place marked purple is Cyprus, which gets a similar treatment, Mandeville mentioning where to see the Cross of Dysmas. These places also have some discussion of cultural practices, like the habit of the Cypriots to eat on the floor.

Link: https://earth.google.com/earth/d/1qwvsQi23FlRXqzBEZaYavepfgs8t_jvk?usp=sharing

I separated Kempe’s locations of travel based on the levels of religious experience/importance, and thus Kempe’s personal experiences in these locations.

Green – Little Religious/Personal Importance

Norwich, Great Yarmouth, and Bologna are in the Green Category. Each category is separated based on the level of importance to Margery Kempe. The analysis of her descriptions of each location revealed that the length, intensity of emotion, and religious acts contribute to how important/memorable these locations are to Kempe. Because Norwich, Great Yarmouth, and Bologna are very briefly mentioned, it can be assumed that Kempe did not have intense visions or experiences in these cities.

Yellow – Medium Religious/Personal Importance

Zierikzee, Konstanz, and Venice are divided into the Orange Category. This category is separated by a medium level of significance to Kempe, where she detailed more events and religious experiences than those locations in the Green Category, but still are not specifically altering to her being (relative to the locations in the Red Category). The reader has more of an idea of her experiences, companions, and treatment in these places, and there are more significant religious aspects, but they are not as significant as the locations in the Red Category.

Red – High Religious/Personal Importance

Jerusalem, Bethlehem, the Jordan River, and the Mount of Temptation belong in the Red Category because they are the most significant in the Bible, and therefore to Kempe. She gives the most description of these places and the surrounding areas, the religious events that occurred there (and why they are so important to her), and the people she meets along the way in these places. The strangers she meets in these places also seem to become kinder to her, perhaps due to their proximity to the Holy Land.

Here’s the link to my map on the Wanderings of Felix Fabri:

https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=18yLeabCtHe9qZXRYQ6KRjVoUrFovoIY&usp=sharing

Categories: I separated Felix Fabri’s Wanderings into categories based on terrain and physical description. Fabri focuses a lot on his natural surroundings for the beginning half of the pilgrimage. However, once he leaves Venice and travels toward the Holy Land, his physical descriptions diminish. This shift illuminates an interesting mindset regarding the authenticity of the Holy Land and his aim to preserve Jerusalem in its most honest state.

Key:

🏔️: mountainous region 

☀️: valley region 

🌊: Water/Ocean Region 

✝️: Holy Land – Jerusalem 

In this next section, Ibn Battuta begins to make his journey through Syria, visiting many towns, a number of the quite notable and recognizable even today, along his journey. Setting off from Cairo, he briefly describes his experience visiting different khan or hostelries as he moves through the dry desert. He spends considerable time discussing one khan in particular, which lies in the city known as Qatya. Here, Ibn Battuta is most focused on governmental restrictions and security, and travel laws. Secondary to this is sidenotes of political violence. He particularly notes the harsh treatment against the merchants wishing to pass, noting how they are “examined, and their goods most rigorously searched” (25). They are also required to pay zakat upon entrance to Qatya. Ibn Battuta mentions that the city is host to a number of government offices and holds large amounts of money, with the income being a thousand gold dinars. Possibly, this is the reason for harsh security.

Ibn Battuta also notes that security clearances, which seem hard to maintain, are to prevent Iraqi spies from entering the territory, hinting at political hostilities and conflicts that we are not completely knowledgeable on at this point. However, the traveler must procure an Egyptian passport heading towards Syria, or vice versa. This raises questions for me concerning legitimacy practices of personal documentation – was it hard to receive? Could it be easily forged? Was it strictly enforced in other places as well?

Additionally, Ibn Battuta notes the rigorousness of the governor in particular when it comes to knowing who is in his land. He goes so far as to order the smoothing of the sands in the evenings so that if tracks appear by morning, they know someone has snuck by and is in the country without permit, and can then be hunted down. Immediately after, Battuta returns to himself and greatly contrasts himself as above these criminals, suggesting he was so polite and agreeable that he was granted special privileges. He notes that the governor treated him honourably, offered great hospitality, and gave him and his crew free passage through the land.

He doesn’t note how long he is in Qatya, but that afterwards he travels through Gaza. The tone here begins to become more religious, and he primarily focuses on tombs, God’s blessings, and well-built mosques upon others. He doesn’t dwell though, moving swiftly to his next section of travel, and the largest section afforded to any of the three – Jerusalem. 

Here, Battuta speaks carefully and religiously, praising God in nearly every sentence. Perhaps he is writing with the thought that God himself may hear/see/question his story or else bad things will come to him if he does not praise him redundantly, especially in such a holy land. However, for as religious as Battuta seems to be, Jerusalem is not the end goal or, seemingly, not a major stop on his journey, and he seems to be moving quite quickly through these places. While he gives the city much attention, he also describes it as “imposing” which invokes an almost fearful feeling from Battuta (26). Furthermore, in Jerusalem, he is concerned almost entirely with religious monuments and sanctuaries. 

He begins with a section on the “Most Sacred Mosque” in the Holy Land, singing much praise of its grandiosity, discussing how it is said that there is no larger of the world. He backs this up with scientific/mathematical measurements, giving the exact length and width and cubits to allow the reader to visualize for themselves just how massive the mosque really is. He then gives the “Dome of the Rock” its own section, in which he is highly complimentary, in which he praises its “loveliness” and “rare beauty,” so grand it left him speechless (27). He discusses its craftsmanship and the materials it has been built with, also ascribing a man-made nature to it, and thus the people of Jerusalem, as he praises its workmanship. Before moving on, he briefly recounts some of the other sacred monuments of the city, and leaves Jerusalem behind.

When Benjamin of Tudela reaches Constantinople, his writing slows down, becoming much fuller, more focused, and more detailed than earlier parts of his journey (which read more like quick notations). Instead of quickly listing towns and Jewish populations, he devotes pages to describing the size, wealth, and life of the Byzantine capital.

Benjamin tells us that Constantinople is eighteen miles around, half surrounded by the sea and half by land. He presents it as one of the major busy centers of worldwide commerce, where merchants arrive from places as far away as Babylon, Persia, Egypt, Russia, Spain, and Lombardy. He compares it to Baghdad, saying both cities are unmatched in trade and wealth.

He pays special attention to Hagia Sophia, which he calls Santa Sophia. He describes its golden pillars, decadent lamps, and various other treasures brought in as tribute from across the empire. As in other cities, Benjamin records the Jewish community. He writes that about 2,000 Jews live in Constantinople, led by R. Samuel, who is appointed by the emperor, along with other leaders like R. Sabbattai, R. Elijah, and R. Michael. He notes, however, that they are oppressed and that many of them work as silk weavers.

Benjamin’s account of Constantinople shows how he balances two kinds of writing: the catalog of marvels intended to impress, and also the careful documentation of Jewish life that is his true interest.  For him, the city is important because it contains a large Jewish community, complete with leaders recognized by the emperor himself.

What stands out in this account is the contrast Benjamin sets up between the immense wealth of the city and the paradoxical condition of its Jews. While Constantinople is filled with riches, he makes sure to mention that Jews there are oppressed. his account illustrates well that while on the one hand, Constantinople is the greatest city of Christendom, filled with splendor; on the other, Jewish life there is more restricted than in some of the smaller Greek towns he passed through, where Jews owned land or thrived as artisans.

This focus on the suffering of Jews in such a marvelous place tells us something about Benjamin’s purpose in writing this account. His audience was most likely Jewish readers across the Mediterranean who wanted to know where their fellow Jews lived, how many there were, and what kind of life they had. His long description of Constantinople is not intended only to impress them with Byzantine wealth, but also to give them a sense of where Jews stood within this imperial capital. The names of rabbis, the number of Jews, their occupations, and even whether they were oppressed or not — all of these details build a kind of map of the Jewish diaspora.

Benjamin also seems aware of the rival powers of his day. By comparing Constantinople to Baghdad, he places the two great capitals — one Christian, one Muslim — on equal footing. This comparison may have been deliberate, showing his readers that Jewish communities could be found in both worlds, even in the greatest cities of each.