The whole notion of the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostella was to put one foot in front of the other, again and again, for nearly a thousand miles. The roads followed by pilgrims were rarely the ancient Roman roads, made for marching armies.
On the "Saint Jacques de Compostelle" ways
In
the Middle Ages people made the journey out of religious zeal, or in atonement
for their sins—even Guillaume, duc d’Aquitaine, Aliénor’s grandfather, who had
been accused of encouraging heresy on his lands. On the eve of the third
millennium, what could possibly motivate people, not just Christians but people
of all faiths, to walk more than 1,500 km (950 miles) to the presumed resting
place of Saint James? Modern sociologists invoke a variety of reasons: faith,
reaction against our overindulging society, the opportunity to escape an unhappy
home life or boring day-to-day existence, or simply a return to nature.
The multiplicity of reasons explains why today your traveling companions may be a retired French judge, a South African architect, a successful banker from Copenhagen or a math teacher from Naples, just as in the Middle Ages one might travel alongside kings, queens, saints, bishops, knights, whores or false monks.
The more dubious characters had donned pilgrim’s
garb as a pretext to go on the road, where it was easier to rob or even murder
their unsuspecting fellow travelers. They were called coquillards and were the
holy terror of the pilgrims.
Nowadays, the number of women pilgrims almost equals that of men. Not so in the Middle Ages, given the paramount dangers of travel: There was little likelihood that unaccompanied women would go unmolested. Occasionally married couples went together, as we see in a 14th-century manuscript in the British Museum. The wife is shown carrying most of the luggage, even her husband’s sword and chain mail.
Ten
centuries ago, a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela entailed an arduous
preparation. The pilgrim-to-be had to put things in order at home, write his
last will, procure money for his gear and lodging, and obtain from his priest a
certificate of good faith. Similarly, today a pilgrim needs what is called in
Spain a credencial, a letter of accreditation delivered by the many Associations
of the Friends of Saint James, found all over the world, which gives access to
private or religious lodging for a minimal sum.
The Medieval pilgrim’s outfit consisted of a wide-brimmed hat; a long walking stick (bourdon) made of strong wood with an iron end, useful in fending off wolves and dogs; and a leather pouch slung over the shoulder to hold the small amount of food it was practical to carry.
By and large, the most important piece of
equipment was the shoes, galoshes or heavy sandals, since the pilgrim would
cover the 1,500 km (at least) at the rate of 20 to 30 km a day. Walking barefoot
was very infrequent and reserved for the great sinners or saints. Halfway
through the trip, at the Abbey of Roncevaux in the Pyrénées, a cobbler monk
repaired pilgrims’ shoes for free.
Those who could read had memorized the best-seller
of the time, The Book of Saint James, written around 1140 by a peripatetic monk
from Poitou, Aimery Picaud. It outlined the various itineraries to Santiago de
Compostela and offered useful and revealing details about water sources, food,
the character of the inhabitants of the region, and churches and shrines where
one could stop and pray.
The whole notion of the pilgrimage to Santiago was to put one foot in front of the other, again and again, for nearly a thousand miles. The roads followed by pilgrims were rarely the ancient Roman roads, made for marching armies; traveling from sanctuary to church and from monastery to cathedral, the pilgrims never took a straight path but proceeded in detours and zigzags.
There
were no signposts, and even if there had been, few could have read them. Nor
were there maps: The wayfarers had to rely on instructions learned by heart,
observe the sun's course if possible and hire a guide who knew the way and its
dangers. To get lost was probably to die.
However, along the road there were montjoies, or small pyramids of stacked stones showing the right way. In the Aubrac region (a 4,500-foot-high plateau in central France) on snowy or foggy days, charitable monks rang the bell of their monastery at regular intervals; this voice (la cloche des perdus) could bring the strayed, mist-blinded pilgrims back to the road in this wild region.
At times, in Poitou or Saintonge and more
frequently on the Spanish side of the border, the traditional shell of Saint
James or a statue of the saint was carved over doorways or church portals to
indicate the way. (Early on, prayer to Saint James revived a drowning victim,
who reappeared adorned with cockleshells, and the shell has been a symbol of
Saint James ever since.)
The most difficult part of the travel by far was the crossing of a large river such as the Rhône, Garonne or Dordogne. When there were bridges, the tolls were astronomical, so most pilgrims depended on boatmen and their flimsy ferries that plied the raging rivers and occasionally capsized when overloaded.
In his guidebook, Aimery Picaud warned travelers that boatmen were the pilgrims’ natural enemies: “Cursed be the boatmen who overload their boat and rejoice as they strip their drowned victims.”
Those who survived these dangers faced the terrible trial of crossing the Pyrénées between France and Spain. The climb toward the Roncevaux Pass, standing at 4,500 feet, where the hero of the Chanson de Roland died in 778, was awesome. Although less demanding, the climb down into Navarre presented its own problems. Aimery Picaud (who was anything but impartial!) told appalling stories of Navarre and Basque people: “They are barbarous people, very wicked, perverted and lecherous, ferocious and dishonest !”
Contrary
to our times, when pilgrims are more likely to travel singly, in the Middle Ages
they gathered in fairly large groups; along the way they confided to one another
good addresses and provided ample details about the welcome in such and such a
monastery.
Pilgrims were interested in the world around them but the different languages and dialects along the way left them at the mercy of the inhabitants for essential questions: How did you inquire whether the water was drinkable? Or ask if there was fish in the river?
After miles of dusty or muddy roads, clothes were thick with dirt and vermin, even if occasionally one could wash in a river or in a cauldron lent by some kind village lady. At the hospice of Aubrac, a monk was specially appointed to cut pilgrims’ hair and beards.
As sunset approached after a day’s travel, it was
time to look for a resting place. Of course, the solution of choice was to stop
at a monastery or a hospice. Along the pilgrimage road, 10,000 monks of the
Order of Cluny supervised some 1,000 abbeys, monasteries, hospices and shelters
in towns and villages,
recognizable
by their Saint James shell. In many ways, the organization of the Order of Cluny
anticipated the modern travel industry, but its activities were much broader in
scope. They ran the “luxury” hotels of the days, offering beds of straw for two
people per bed. They cared for the sick with doctors and apothecaries who
provided washed sheets, blankets, sheepskins and woollen socks for walking to
the latrines.
Along the road, a whole population lived off pilgrims: innkeepers, toll takers, money changers, guides, priests, monks, souvenir vendors. Monasteries vied to be chosen as lodgings by the rich, from whom they expected charities.
Once the Pyrénées were crossed and Navarre left
behind, the pilgrims found themselves on the last leg of the trip. Approaching
Santiago from a place called Monte del Gozo, one could see for the first time
the triple-towered cathedral of Compostela.
According
to tradition, the first pilgrim in a crowd to see Compostela from the top of the
hill was made king of the pilgrimage; he would later be called Leroy or Le Roy
and could pass the name to his descendants.
Weeping with joy and fatigue, at long last they saw the fulfillment of the dream of their entire lives. They had suffered frostbite, sunstroke, exhaustion, hunger, sickness, but at that instant they forgot it all and had only one desire: to go and pray to Santiago at his shrine. But first they had to wash, to undergo a sort of baptism and be purified.
Once in the church, where a solemn mass brought together pilgrims from all corners of the world, exhausted and hungry as they were, once they had given the traditional embrace to the silver-caped Santiago, once they had procured the shell badge recognizing their feat, it was time to go back home.
Not all pilgrims finished the journey. How many went astray on the way back, died of cold or starvation, or were lost in the blizzard, devoured by wolves or killed by their fellow men?
But most of them made it. On the way back, people kissed them, wanting to touch their clothes as if to partake in their state of grace.
Once back in their family, they had so much to
tell: the different sanctuaries, the encounters along the road, the fears and
the hopes, the laughter and the suffering, the tears at seeing Compostela;
and
all those miles traveled to the end of the Western world, following the sun
during the day and the Milky Way at night. But this was not the main thing.
The essential they could not express. How could they put into words the way it felt to have conquered the solitude and anguish, to have reached on the physical plane the most elusive of all spiritual goals: the transcending of their capabilities?
Old romantic Hotel, L'Etoile Guest-House is a mountain retreat in the South of France. With a beautiful park along the Allier River, L'Etoile Guesthouse is located in La Bastide Puylaurent between Lozere, Ardeche and Cevennes. Many hiking trails like GR70 Stevenson trail, Regordane way (St Gilles trail), GR7, GR72, GRP Le Cevenol, Roujanel, Margeride loop and Allier river trail. The right place to relax.