The Road to There

by Val Ross

  Other Christian rulers thought Roger showed too much respect for Muslims. When al-Idrisi arrived at the Sicilian court, as a sign of extra courtesy and favor, he was allowed to ride a mule into Roger’s presence. The king, crowned in Byzantine-style with pendant pearls hanging down to his shoulders, stepped down from his throne and went forward to greet his guest. Muslim historians of Roger’s court tell us that, before long, al-Idrisi was seated beside the king, where he could whisper in Roger’s ear.

  Some of their conversations were more public. Ibn al-Athir tells the story of how news arrived one day that Roger’s expedition took the Muslim city of Tripoli and killed many Muslim defenders. The Christian knights cheered but al-Idrisi, seated at the king’s side, showed no emotion. Roger turned to his friend and demanded, “Where was your god? Has he forgotten his people?” Al-Idrisi boldly replied, “If my God was far away, he was taking part in the capture of Edessa, which has just been taken by the Muslims from the Christians.” The Christian knights jeered and yelled. But the king said, “By God, do not laugh at him! This man always speaks the truth.”

  Indeed, the Christian king and his Muslim scholar-friend were so close, Sicilians gossiped that Roger had secretly converted to Islam. But the true basis of their friendship was that they were working together on Roger’s grand project: the worlds most beautiful and accurate map. It was to be made of silver, engraved with outlines of coasts and islands.

  They started, as most medieval mapmakers did, with the writings of Claudius Ptolemy, the ancient Greek-Egyptian. But they weren’t content to repeat his observations — or his errors. Al-Idrisi’s own writings say that he and Roger also consulted Muslim geographers such as Ibn-Hawqal, who had visited Palermo around 872. After carrying out what al-Idrisi calls “an exhaustive and detailed investigation” of such geographical classics, the two mapmakers decided to launch their own independent inquiry.

  All of Claudius Ptolemy’s original maps are lost, but many later mapmakers tried to reconstruct them according to directions in his writings. This is from a German edition of the Cosmographia published more than 1,100 years after Ptolemy’s death.

  PTOLEMY

  Claudius Ptolemy, a Greek living in Egypt, influenced mapmaking from his own lifetime (around 150 AD) until about 1500. His insights were more useful, and his mistakes more damaging, than any other ancient scientist. His maps had all disappeared by the Middle Ages, but some of his books survived.

  One of his greatest works was his Geographia. This book explained scale — that is, showing distance and area accurately by having a large measure of distance equal a tiny measure of length on the map. Ptolemy told how the world could be divided into zones, or latitudes — from zones near the equator with a hot climate and 12 hours of daylight all year round, right up to the highest latitudes with a frigid climate and very short winter days. He explained that a grid of lines, running from north to south and east to west across the world, would let people reading maps locate any place, anywhere. Helpfully, Ptolemy even listed 8,000 places, with their coordinates, which later mapmakers consulted when they were drawing up their charts of the world.

  Unfortunately, Ptolemy’s two biggest errors held back science for more than 1,400 years. He was convinced that the Earth was the center of the Solar System and everything revolved around it. And he insisted that the Earth consisted mostly of land surrounding the vast Mediterranean Sea. It was not until the 1540s that Gerard Mercator finally cut Ptolemy’s Mediterranean down to size, and the astronomer Copernicus showed that the Earth revolves around the sun.

  The king ordered “experienced travelers”- sailors, traders, pilgrims — to come from all over his kingdom to Palermo for questioning. Then he and al-Idrisi compared these fresh reports with existing maps and, using an iron compass, sketched maps on a massive drawing board.

  After years of research, the two were ready to proceed with the ultimate map. Another Muslim historian, al-Safadi, wrote that the king had 400,000 drams of silver brought to al-Idrisi, who ordered silversmiths to turn it into a silver sphere “like those in the heavens.” Roger was so pleased that, although his friend used only a third of the silver, the king told him to keep the rest.

  The large, flat map, or planisphere, measured about 3.5 × 1.5 meters (11 × 5 feet) and weighed about 180 kilograms (400 pounds). But what this glittering object was made of was less precious than what was engraved on its surface — the outlines of the known world.

  South is at the top of al-Idrisi’s world map; turn it upside down and suddenly you recognize the Mediterranean and Black Seas, and even Arabia.

  There are many problems with al-Idrisi’s vision of the world. England is just a tiny blip floating off the coast of Europe. And Africa reaches to Antarctica — you cannot get to India by sailing around it. But the mapmakers got the Nile River right. The map shows how the Blue Nile flows from Ethiopia, and the White Nile flows from the Mountains of the Moon in central Africa (something British geographers didn’t confirm until the middle of the 19th century). The map even sketches in Scandinavia and Japan. Like the ancient Greek geographers, al-Idrisi believed that the Earth was round, and calculated its circumference to be about 37,000 kilometers (23,000 miles) — it’s actually more like 40,000 kilometers (25,000 miles).

  The planisphere wasn’t as sophisticated as Chinese maps of the time. But al-Idrisi was way ahead of the mapmakers of northern Europe, who were more concerned with showing the way to heaven than depicting the outlines of the Earth.

  Al-Idrisi wrote a book to accompany his planisphere — Nuzhat al-Mushtaq fi’khtiraq al-afar (The Book of Pleasant Journeys into Faraway Lands). Better known as The Book of Roger, it is an encyclopedia of information about the peoples of the known world, “their seas, mountains and measurements … crops, revenues and all sorts of buildings … and all the wonderful things relating to each.”

  Again, the hardworking mapmakers got some things marvelously wrong. On the island of Wak-Wak, they report, trees grew talking fruits shaped like women’s heads; all day, these fruits called out “Wak Wak!” The Book of Roger reported that the people of Norway were born neckless, and that “England is set in the Ocean of Darkness … in the grip of perpetual winter.”

  After fifteen years of labor, in January 1154, al-Idrisi announced that the silver map and book were finally complete. But by now Roger was an old man. He died later that same year.

  Within six years his kingdom began to fall apart. Roger’s heir, King William the Bad, was no Roger. After his father’s death, William couldn’t defend Roger’s African conquests, so cities such as Tripoli slipped back into Muslim hands. Thousands of Christians fled back to Sicily, where William hadn’t paid much attention to ruling.

  ANCIENT MAPS

  The Romans worked on maps that tried to portray the world to scale, but none of them survive. What do survive are cartograms, maps in which the land is distorted to show how to get from A to B, for use by their armies and traders. One of these, the Peutinger Map, shows towns in the order in which you’d reach them as you marched along a Roman road. There are hardly any twists or curves, and Europe and the Near East are shown as if they are parallel, like guitar strings.

  After the Roman Empire fell and life in the West became violent and chaotic, mapmakers made maps that drastically simplified their world. These maps were mainly diagrams to help people on the journey to heaven. Most were in what’s known as the T-O design. Earth was a circle (the O) divided into three parts by a T of water — the Mediterranean, the Nile, and the Danube River. The holy city of Jerusalem is shown at the center of the world. Asia or the Orient is on top (which is why we say we “get oriented” when we find direction). Europe is on the left and Africa is on the right.

  The monks who made these maps gave them amazing decorations. So, on many maps from the Middle Ages, you can’t recognize the shapes of continents, but you can see saints, mermaids, and monsters.

  On the morning of March 9, 1161, rebels stormed the palace, threw open the du
ngeons, and armed the prisoners. William and his family were put under guard. A mob from the streets of Palermo swarmed over the palace like locusts. Muslim scholars were hunted down in the halls and killed. Rioters started throwing books, documents, and tax records into a bonfire in the courtyard. Anything of value was carried away. The great silver planisphere engraved with a map of the world disappeared that day, and was never seen again.

  What was also lost in Sicily that day was the idea of a kingdom where people of different faiths could live, debate, and study in peace. Roger’s son and his family survived the riots and regained control over Sicily — but they turned their attention to staying secure inside their walls. Across Europe it was the same. The best minds of the Middle Ages closed against the outside world. People who wondered about what lay beyond their own horizons risked being condemned as heretics. Mapmaking turned into a question of how to portray the world to prove the supremacy of Christianity, and how many monsters you could draw to cover the blank spots that made up most of the map.

  Luckily the rioters did not destroy al-Idrisi’s other major work, The Book of Roger, with its draft maps. In fact, King William commissioned another book, Gardens of Pleasure and Recreation of the Souls, from his father’s old friend. After writing it, al-Idrisi went home to Ceuta and grieved for Roger, his Christian friend who once shared his desire to understand the world. “The extent of his learning cannot be described,” al-Idrisi wrote, “so deeply and wisely has he studied…. His dreams are worth more than the waking thoughts of most mortals.” As al-Idrisi knew, a map-maker’s best friend is someone who is interested in the stories his maps have to tell.

  THE MAPMAKER’S LOSS

  Cheng Ho

  THE BOY IS about ten years old when rebels sweep into China’s Yunnan province, killing anyone connected to the hated Mongols who have occupied China for 200 years. The boy’s father, a Muslim whose family governed Yunnan for the Mongols, is executed along with thousands of others. The boy is taken prisoner and castrated — cut, the way we “fix” male cats and dogs — so that he can never have children.

  But his captors notice that the boy is clever and handsome. “His eyebrows were like swords and his forehead was like a tiger’s,” a Chinese court official later writes. And so he is given to the new Chinese emperor’s fourth son, Prince Zhu Di. The Prince educates the boy and gives him a Chinese name, Cheng Ho (the historical form of Zheng Ho or Zheng He), and a title, San Bao (Three Jewels).

  The story of Cheng Ho’s life seems like a fairytale — the orphan boy grows up to be the Prince’s most trusted advisor. But the real story is even more exciting.

  When Prince Zhu Di’s father, the rebel-turned-emperor, died in 1398, his throne passed to his grandson, Zhu Yunwen. Zhu Di mistrusted his nephew, with good reason. The new emperor immediately started eliminating any uncles who might claim the throne. Zhu Di decided to kill before he was killed. His loyal servant Cheng Ho, now in his early twenties, was at his side as he started his own rebellion. In 1402, Zhu Di’s army marched into Nanjing, hunting for the Emperor. They found his imperial palace in flames, and inside, the charred bodies of the empress, her son, and someone else. Was it Emperor Zhu Yunwen? The body was too blackened to tell.

  Prince Zhu Di claimed China’s throne. But he was unsure that the man he had stolen it from was really dead. Some said the deposed emperor had fled the burning palace in disguise and was hiding in some foreign country.

  This pictorial map of the Yellow River, the Huang He Wan Li Tu, was about the size and shape of the red carpet at an awards show. Created by ten of China’s most famous artists around 1368, just before the time of Cheng Ho, it is not only beautiful, but useful: each house represents a hundred families, so the map could be used to assess the damage whenever the Yellow River flooded.

  So the new emperor, Zhu Di, put Cheng Ho in command of ships that would search the world for traces of Zhu Yunwen.

  Emperor Zhu Di had many reasons for creating a mighty fleet of ships. Years of fighting the Mongols, followed by civil war, had ruined China’s economy. Pirates grew rich on stolen cargo meant for China’s markets. The kingdom was running short of spices and medicinal herbs. Trade had to be reopened. There was another reason: because Emperor Zhu Di was the grandson of a rebel peasant, and because he himself had stolen the throne, he felt he had to impress the world that he was a true ruler. He wanted his Ming dynasty to claim its place among the great periods of China’s past, when Chinas ships dominated the China Sea.

  SAILING IN OLD CHINA

  Cheng Ho’s ships were centuries ahead of European vessels in terms of sailing technology. They had floating anchors at each side to stabilize the ship in high seas, and watertight compartments so that a leak in one part would not sink the whole ship — something the designers of the Titanic should have copied 500 years later. Their square sails of red silk could be adjusted so that they could sail on days when the European-designed ships waited for the wind to change direction. The biggest ships of the Treasure Fleet had nine masts and were 120 meters (400 feet) long — among the biggest wooden vessels ever to have been built. They were like floating towns, with gardens of potted plants and pens of livestock to provide food for their crews.

  Even 600 years ago, Chinese sailors used compasses to navigate. In fact, the Chinese probably invented the compass — they used magnetized needles floating in stone bowls to help sailors find north even in fog or on starless nights.

  Zhu Di knew he had put the right man in charge of the Treasure Fleet. Most Chinese were followers of the great teacher Confucius, who taught respect and serenity, and discouraged curiosity about distant lands. But Cheng Ho was a Muslim, whose faith encouraged him to travel and spread the word of Allah. Muslims had been running China’s trade with Persia and Arabia for centuries.

  We know of Cheng Ho’s adventures through the writings of Ma Huan, another Muslim who served as a translator on the later voyages and wrote an account of his travels, The Overall Survey of the Ocean’s Shores. “I am but a stupid, incompetent driveler,” wrote Ma Huan, “but in the discharge of my work with Cheng Ho, I candidly and honestly set down many strange things.” Ma Huan’s stories aren’t at all like the histories of the European explorers who would later rampage through the civilizations of other lands, conquering and looting. Ma Huan tells of diplomacy and courtesy, and of the world paying tribute to China’s Emperor.

  The first time the Treasure Fleet set sail was in the golden autumn of 1405. As 217 great, red-sailed vessels passed down the Chinese coast, their mere presence proclaimed that China was once again in charge of the seas.

  Cheng Ho’s fleet made diplomatic calls in Java, Sumatra, Sri Lanka, Kerala, and southwest India, a trading center for jewels and ginger, pepper, cinnamon, and cardamom. Heading for home, the ships dropped their mighty anchors at Palembang in Sumatra, headquarters of the strongest pirate chief in Southeast Asia. Here, says Ma Huan, Cheng Ho’s sailors did battle, killing 5,000 pirates and taking the pirate chief back to Nanjing to be beheaded in front of the Emperor.

  Back in China, thousands were dying from epidemics. In 1407 the ships sailed forth again, carrying 180 doctors and pharmacists. The Chinese healers were ordered to bring back medicines such as sulfur (for lung problems) and chaulmoogra oil (for leprosy), and to consult with Arab doctors, who were at that time the best doctors in the world.

  Once more the ships returned after about two years, laden with medicines, spices, gems, and foreign ambassadors bearing gifts for Emperor Zhu Di. The foreign ambassadors were welcomed with banquets of duck and horse, fried and steamed pancakes, sweet bean paste and plum wine. Then they were sent back to their homelands, carrying gifts of silk, brocade, and porcelain.

  But by now, Emperor Zhu Di’s bureaucrats were questioning the cost of the voyages. He ignored them. More fleets sailed out and returned with tribute — and no sign of Zhu Di’s vanished nephew. The Emperor began to feel confident, and in 1416 he ordered this inscription to be made in a temple: “The seas
had been conquered and there was quiet in the four corners.”

  Admiral Cheng Ho is shown in full Ming dynasty regalia on this stamp from the Republic of China. There are statues of the great navigator, but no portraits made in his lifetime, so this is just an artist’s impression.

  The biggest ships in the Treasure Fleet were eight times bigger than the ships sailed by Christopher Columbus, and were better designed for long sea voyages than European ships would be until the mid-l8th century.

  This stamp shows the Hong Kong portion of the long scrolled Mao K’un map, which is described as “a memento of Cheng Ho’s achievements.”

  Ma Huan joined the Treasure Fleet for its fourth and fifth voyages. These later expeditions were smaller, but sailed farther west than before, to Arabia. Ma Huan described it as a place where “the women all wear a covering over their heads” and everyone spoke “the Al-a-pi” (Arabic) language.

  After Arabia, the great red sails turned to Malindi, Africa, for exotic animals. Cheng Ho knew that the king of Bengal had sent the Emperor a giraffe, and the animal was hailed as the “qilin” — a mythical creature believed to appear only in times of great prosperity. So, to please Zhu Di, Cheng Ho brought home a second giraffe/qilin. When it was presented to the court, a poet wrote that the miraculous creature had “luminous spots like a red cloud or purple mist…. It walks in stately fashion…. The manifestation of its divine spirit rises up to heaven.”