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Marco Polo was a big fibbity fibbing fibber. And that's putting it mildly. It's remarkable that nobody called his bluff seven hundred years ago; and, all things considered, it's rather a shame that he was so dry and boring when Doctor Who met him. It might have made that adventure a little more interesting if he'd been more true to life. But that's by the by. Onward with "The Customs Of The Kingdoms Of India".
I suppose if you're travelling to countries that nobody in your homeland has ever been to before, there's bound to be the temptation to be naughty. After all, in 1310, it wasn't as though there were many people who were going to be able to contradict him; and there weren't lots of books for them to check his facts in. All the same, it's remarkable that he was considered such a great authority on the East when he was claiming to know of islands where the men had the heads of dogs, and where there were eagles that could make off with elephants. He has a rather endearing habit of using the phrase "You can take it as a fact that..." and then following it up with something that, if you do take it as a fact, rather makes you a credulous loony. He certainly claims to know a great deal about the people of the Island of Andaman, despite saying as part of his description that it's impossible either to go to or away from the place. That's the place where all the inhabitants have the heads of dogs, he tells us. They eat people who come to the island, despite nobody being able to go there. "They have abundance of spices of every kind. Their food is rice and milk, and every sort of flesh. They also have coconuts, apples of paradise, and many other fruit different from ours." Which is a pretty good description of the way of life of a people who live on an island that "lies in a sea so turbulent and so deep that ships cannot anchor there or sail away from it, because it sweeps them into a gulf from which they can never escape." Ships that go there are stuck for good, he tells us. So did you fly there, Marco, to learn about these dog-headed men and their diets?! He's so enthusiastic about it all, though, whether he believes this stuff himself or not. He seems quite determined to make himself into a legend, and does his best to play up to that at every opportunity. "There was never a man yet, Christian or Saracen, Tartar or Pagan, who explored so much of the world as Messer Marco..." Could be he's right, but whether that's a good or a bad thing, I'm not sure. After all, it would be nice to have a more accurate account of all those places; and the people of Marco's own time certainly deserved that. On the other hand... well, this is all rather more interesting that your average travelogue. Where he got the idea from that tarantulas are like lizards, though, I don't know. Surely simple observation can show you that they're nothing alike? I suppose it's possible that he didn't see one himself, and was relying on descriptions from locals - something that suggests itself more than once during the course of the book. The giant eagles making off with elephants is a story that he admits he heard second-hand. Shades, then, of the travels of Herodotus, with the locals telling tall tales to gullible tourists. Times change, but the people don't.
There's plenty of other ways that show people don't change, too. Take Marco's fascination with how little clothing the various locals wear. Whether or not they like to go about naked is frequently the only thing about a particular kingdom that he bothers to note. Forget customs, forget history. Which bits they do or don't cover is far more important to Marco. I suspect that, in another time, he'd have been guaranteed a job with a tabloid.
All in all, though, I'm not sure that I like Marco all that much. It's important to remember the times that he was writing in; but whilst both Herodotus and Mas'Udi were at pains to list the different beliefs of the people they encountered, and to speak of them all with some degree of respect, Marco's attitude towards the Saracens is contemptuous and unpleasant. He doesn't do himself any favours speaking like that, and he doesn't do his account any favours, either. It brings a sour note to proceedings. It's a good indication of the passage of time, though, I suppose - perhaps the influence of the Crusades being felt. Between the time of Mas'Udi and the time of Marco Polo a lot had changed, and some of it perhaps for good, some not. It's sad, and perhaps it's unfair of me to blame Marco, but I'm rather inclined to anyway. You travelled there, Marco. You met these people and you lived amongst them. Show them some respect, man, and stop being such a blasted oik.
I suppose if you're travelling to countries that nobody in your homeland has ever been to before, there's bound to be the temptation to be naughty. After all, in 1310, it wasn't as though there were many people who were going to be able to contradict him; and there weren't lots of books for them to check his facts in. All the same, it's remarkable that he was considered such a great authority on the East when he was claiming to know of islands where the men had the heads of dogs, and where there were eagles that could make off with elephants. He has a rather endearing habit of using the phrase "You can take it as a fact that..." and then following it up with something that, if you do take it as a fact, rather makes you a credulous loony. He certainly claims to know a great deal about the people of the Island of Andaman, despite saying as part of his description that it's impossible either to go to or away from the place. That's the place where all the inhabitants have the heads of dogs, he tells us. They eat people who come to the island, despite nobody being able to go there. "They have abundance of spices of every kind. Their food is rice and milk, and every sort of flesh. They also have coconuts, apples of paradise, and many other fruit different from ours." Which is a pretty good description of the way of life of a people who live on an island that "lies in a sea so turbulent and so deep that ships cannot anchor there or sail away from it, because it sweeps them into a gulf from which they can never escape." Ships that go there are stuck for good, he tells us. So did you fly there, Marco, to learn about these dog-headed men and their diets?! He's so enthusiastic about it all, though, whether he believes this stuff himself or not. He seems quite determined to make himself into a legend, and does his best to play up to that at every opportunity. "There was never a man yet, Christian or Saracen, Tartar or Pagan, who explored so much of the world as Messer Marco..." Could be he's right, but whether that's a good or a bad thing, I'm not sure. After all, it would be nice to have a more accurate account of all those places; and the people of Marco's own time certainly deserved that. On the other hand... well, this is all rather more interesting that your average travelogue. Where he got the idea from that tarantulas are like lizards, though, I don't know. Surely simple observation can show you that they're nothing alike? I suppose it's possible that he didn't see one himself, and was relying on descriptions from locals - something that suggests itself more than once during the course of the book. The giant eagles making off with elephants is a story that he admits he heard second-hand. Shades, then, of the travels of Herodotus, with the locals telling tall tales to gullible tourists. Times change, but the people don't.
There's plenty of other ways that show people don't change, too. Take Marco's fascination with how little clothing the various locals wear. Whether or not they like to go about naked is frequently the only thing about a particular kingdom that he bothers to note. Forget customs, forget history. Which bits they do or don't cover is far more important to Marco. I suspect that, in another time, he'd have been guaranteed a job with a tabloid.
All in all, though, I'm not sure that I like Marco all that much. It's important to remember the times that he was writing in; but whilst both Herodotus and Mas'Udi were at pains to list the different beliefs of the people they encountered, and to speak of them all with some degree of respect, Marco's attitude towards the Saracens is contemptuous and unpleasant. He doesn't do himself any favours speaking like that, and he doesn't do his account any favours, either. It brings a sour note to proceedings. It's a good indication of the passage of time, though, I suppose - perhaps the influence of the Crusades being felt. Between the time of Mas'Udi and the time of Marco Polo a lot had changed, and some of it perhaps for good, some not. It's sad, and perhaps it's unfair of me to blame Marco, but I'm rather inclined to anyway. You travelled there, Marco. You met these people and you lived amongst them. Show them some respect, man, and stop being such a blasted oik.
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