To go on pilgrimage is an instinct which appears in most religions and
at all ages. The idea underlying the practice seems to be that God is
more nigh in some spots than in others, the desire to seek Him in a
place where He may be found: for where God is, there men hope to win
remission of sins. So widespread is this sentiment that both in
Catholic Europe and in Asia it is not possible to travel far without
coming upon sites invested in this way with a special holiness. The
objects which draw men to peregrinate may be divided into three
classes: natural features which are in themselves remarkable; places
difficult of access, which can only be reached at cost of risk and
effort; and sites which have been rendered holy by the visitation of
God or the preservation of sacred relics. But this classification is
not always clearly defined; for the same object of pilgrimage often
falls into two categories at once.
Of striking natural features--self-created objects of veneration, as
the Hindus call them--many kinds are found. There are chasms from
which issue mysterious vapours, stimulating prophecy, such as Delphi,
or Jwala Mukhi, sacred to Hindus and Sikhs, or the Grotta del Cane,
near Naples. Caves with their dreadful gloom inspire a sense of
supernatural presence. Such are the cave of Trophonius in Boeotia, St.
Patrick's cave in Ireland, the grotto of Lourdes, Mariastein near
Basle, and the great fissure of Amarnath in Kashmir, with its icy
stalactite which is the special object of worship. Some of these add
to their sanctity by difficulty of access: St. Patrick's cave is on an
island in Lough Derg; Mariastein lies over the edge of a steep cliff;
Amarnath is hidden among lofty mountains at 17000 feet above the sea.
Enormous stones, too, are apt to acquire holiness, arousing interest
by their vast mass; as though they could hardly have been brought into
independent existence, detached from the great earth, without some
direct intervention of divine power. Such are the stone at Delphi, or
the great rock, now enshrined in a Muhammadan mosque, which no doubt
caused men to go up to Jerusalem in Jebusite days, before Israel came
out of Egypt. (It is thought by pious Muhammadans to rest in the air
without support; their tradition being that at the time of Muhammad's
ascension into heaven this stone, which was his point of departure,
sought to accompany him but was detained by an angel. To the Hebrews
it was sacred as the rock on which Abraham was ready to offer Isaac;
and also as a stone which kept down within the earth the receded
waters of the Flood.) Meteoric stones have a sanctity as having fallen
from heaven: for example, the _lingam_ of Jagannath at Puri, and the
famous black stone at Mecca. Wells also, for obvious reasons, tend to
attract worship.
Of places inaccessible to which pilgrims toil, some are the sources of
rivers, like Gangotri, whence springs the Ganges: others are islands,
such as the Îles de Lérins off Cannes, Iona and Lindisfarne, or many
off the West coast of Ireland: or distant headlands, like the Spanish
Finisterre, or Rameshwaram, the extreme southern cape of the Indian
peninsula. More numerous are those which lie high up on mountains or
above precipitous rocks; such as the many peaks of Sinai, the lake on
Haramuk in Kashmir, the cliffs of Rocamadour in Central France, which
Piers Plowman mentions,[33] or the grey cone of Athos. In a mild form
such places may frequently be seen, in the pilgrimage churches and
chapels which crown modest eminences beside many villages and towns of
Catholic Europe: akin no doubt to the high places and hill-altars
where lingered the heathen worship that the Israelite priests and
prophets were continually trying to exterminate.
[33] Right so, if thou be religious, renne thou never ferthere
To Rome ne to Roquemadoure: but as thy rule techeth,
Holde thee to thine obedience: that heighway is to heaven.
The third class of pilgrimage sites is of those which are sanctified
through association with divinities or saints or relics: Gaya in
Bihar, with its pilgrims' way leading pious Buddhists by long flights
of steps up and down the circle of hills, like the great way at
Bologna; Jerusalem, Rome, Canterbury, Trèves; and Santiago (St.
James) de Compostella, rendered attractive also by remote distance. Or
a settlement of hermits in a wilderness might become a place of
pilgrimage, especially when death had heightened the fame enjoyed
during their lives: such as Gueremeh in Cappadocia, St. Bertrand among
the Pyrenees, or Einsiedeln above the Lake of Lucerne, where in 1487
died Nicholas the Hermit, reputed to have lived for twenty years
without food. And we may make a special category for sacred houses;
the Bait-ullah or Qaabah at Mecca, the house of the Virgin at Loretto,
St. Columba's at Glencolumbkill, and the house in which St. Francis
died, in dei Angeli at Assisi.
In many cases there is definite evidence to show that pilgrimage sites
remain sacred even when religions change. Mecca was a resort of
pilgrims in the first century B.C., 700 years before Muhammad. The
Central-Asian shrines visited by Buddhist pilgrims from China on their
way to India, Fa-hsien in the fifth and Hsuan-tsang in the seventh
century, are now appropriated to Islam. The so-called foot-mark on
Adam's Peak in Ceylon has been attributed by Brahmans to Siva, by
Buddhists to Sakyamuni, by Gnostics to Ieu, by Muhammadans to Adam,
and by the Portuguese Christians to either St. Thomas or the eunuch of
Candace, queen of Ethiopia.[34]
[34] J.E. Tennent's _Ceylon_ (1860), ii. 133, quoted in Yule's
_Marco Polo_, ed. H. Cordier, 1903, ii. 321.
In the age we are considering, we hear of Henry VII, Henry VIII, and
even Wolsey going as pilgrims to Our Lady of Walsingham in Norfolk;
and Colet took Erasmus with him to Canterbury. But the most renowned
places of Christian pilgrimage were Rome, Santiago, and Jerusalem.
Thither journeyed pilgrims in great numbers from all parts of Europe;
bishops and abbots and clergy, both regular and secular, noblemen of
every degree, wealthy merchants, scholars from the universities, civil
officials and courtiers, and occasionally even women. Piety or
superstition were doubtless the usual motives which led men to face
the very considerable perils of the journey; but besides this there
was probably in some cases the desire to see new scenes, and a love of
adventure for its own sake. Holiday travel was scarcely known in those
days. The discomforts were great, and there were still dangers of the
ordinary kind, even in the most settled parts of Europe. The beginning
of a story in one of More's English works shows how such travel was
regarded--as at least unwise, and perhaps extravagant: 'Now was there
a young gentleman which had married a merchant's wife. And having a
little wanton money which him thought burned out the bottom of his
purse, in the first year of his wedding he took his wife with him and
went over the sea, for none other errand but to see Flanders and
France, and ride out one summer in those countries.' But in the
company of pilgrims there was some security, and accordingly the
adventurous availed themselves of such opportunities. Thus Peter Falk,
burgomaster of Freiburg in Switzerland, went on pilgrimage to
Jerusalem in 1515 and again in 1519; and had he not died on the second
journey, he was projecting a visit to Portugal and Spain, perhaps to
Compostella. He was a keen, interested man. A companion, who was a
Cambridge scholar, describes him as taking an ape with him on board to
make fun for his shipmates; wearing a gun hanging at his belt, being
curious in novelties; carefully noting the names of places and the
situations of towns, and using red ink to mark his guide-book.
The literature of pilgrimages is abundant, and consists primarily in
narratives written by pilgrims themselves. A few of these were printed
by the writers in their own day; many have been published by
antiquarians in isolated periodicals; and in the volumes of the
Palestine Pilgrims' Text Society there is a collection of
translations. Professor Röhricht of Innsbruck has made a wonderful
bibliography of German pilgrims to the Holy Land, replete with
information and references. The narratives necessarily traverse the
same ground, and repeat one another in many points; often reproducing
from an early source exactly identical information of the guide-book
order as to sites, routes, preparations, precautions, and so forth.
We have three English narratives of Erasmus' period: by William Wey,
Fellow of Eton, who went to Jerusalem in 1458 and again in 1462; by
Sir Richard Guilford, a Court official who made the journey in 1506;
and by Sir Richard Torkington, a parish priest from Norfolk, who went
in 1517. But besides these some Baedekers of the time survive; one
entitled 'Information for Pilgrims unto the Holy Land'[35] which was
printed by Wynkyn de Worde at Westminster in 1498, and again by him in
London in 1515 and 1524; another written by Hermann Kunig of Vach in
1495 and several times printed before 1521, 'Die Walfart und Strass zu
sant Jacob'[36] which gives the distance of each stage and notes inns
and hospitals at which shelter might be found.
[35] It has been reproduced with an introduction by Mr. E.G.
Duff, London, 1893.
[36] It has been reproduced with an introduction by Professor
K. Häbler, Strasburg, 1899.
The Compostella pilgrimage was popular for many reasons, and no doubt
began long before St. James had ousted St. Vincent from being
patron-saint of Spain. The spot was remote, literally then at the end
of the earth, 'beyond which', as another pilgrim says, 'there is no
land any more, only water'. There was a great stone, too, in which
later piety found the boat that had borne the saint's body from
Jerusalem. And there were islands to be visited, one a St. Michael's
Mount, round the shores of which should be gathered the cockle shells
that were the emblems of pilgrimage duly performed: though the less
active bought them at stalls high-heaped outside the cathedral doors,
and the rich had them copied in silver and gold.
To the 'end of the earth' Northern Europe went most easily by sea,
all others by land. Convoys gathered in Dartmouth in the lengthening
days of spring, and crept along Slapton sands and round the unlighted
Start, until there was no land any more, and summoning their courage
they must steer out into the Bay of Biscay. This way went John of
Gaunt to St. James in 1386, to be crowned King of Castile in the great
Romanesque cathedral; and so, too, Chaucer must have pictured the Wyf
of Bath visiting 'Galice'.
But Kunig's route lay overland: from Einsiedeln to Romans and Valence;
over the Rhone by the famed bridge of the Holy Spirit, which even
kings must cross on foot, to Uzès, Nîmes and Béziers; and then
westwards into the sandy scant-populated lands where the track was
scarcely to be found, except for the pilgrims' graves, often nameless,
sometimes perhaps marked with such simple inscriptions as may still be
seen on trees and crosses among the forests of the Alps. A Pyrenean
pass led him to Roncesvalles; at Logroño the ancient bridge brought
him over the Ebro, and so by Burgos and Leon to his journey's end,
blessing the patrons--Kings of France and England and Navarre, Dukes
of Burgundy--who had raised shelters for poor pilgrims on the way, and
above all the Catholic Kings whose munificence had built a huge serai
to welcome them in Santiago itself.
For Jerusalem the usual point of departure was Venice. Pilgrims
congregated there from all parts of Western and Central Europe, and
there were regular services of ships, sailing mostly in the summer
months. The competition between shipmasters, or 'patrons', to secure
custom was very keen. Thus Torkington records: 'On 3 May the patron of
a new goodly ship with other merchants desired us pilgrims that we
would come aboard and see his ship within: which ship lay afore St.
Mark's Church. We all went in, and there they made us goodly cheer
with diverse subtilties, as comfits and march-panes and sweet wines.
Also 5 May the patron of another ship which lay in the sea five miles
from Venice, desired us all pilgrims that we would come and see his
ship. And the same day we all went with him; and there he provided for
us a marvellous good dinner, where we had all manner of good victuals
and wine.' Ultimately, Torkington sailed in a new ship of 800
tons,[37] under a patron named Thomas Dodo. Only three days later
another ship set sail with a large party of German pilgrims.
[37] If the figure is correct, she was a large vessel for the times;
for a century later, the _Pelican_, in which Drake sailed round the
world, was only 100 tons, the _Squirrel_, in which Sir Humfrey Gilbert
was cast away in an Atlantic gale, only 10.
In all ages a great ship is a great wonder, representing for the time
the final triumph of the shipwright's art. The monster vessel that set
Lucian's friend dreaming at the Piraeus had but one mast; yet the
curious from Athens flocked down to see her extraordinary proportions
and to admire the sailors who had beaten up in her from Egypt against
the Etesian winds in only seventy days. She was the ship of the hour:
anything greater scarcely conceivable. Again, Macaulay returning from
India in 1837 compares his comfortable sailing-ship to a huge floating
hotel. Burton on his way to Mecca in 1853, when steaming across the
Bay of Biscay in a vessel of 2000 tons, prophesies that sea-sickness
is at an end now that such monsters ply across the ocean and laugh at
the storm. How puny do they seem beside the Olympic and Imperator, at
which we in our turn gaze wonderingly and think that engineering can
no further go. It is amusing to find the same proud admiration in a
traveller of 1517: 'Our ship was so great that when we came to land,
we could not run her upon the beach like a galley, but must remain in
deep water', the passengers going ashore in boats.
Quite a number of contracts between patron and pilgrim have been
preserved. Some of the terms are as follows: 'that the ship shall be
properly armed and manned, and carry a barber and a physician; that it
shall only touch at the usual ports, and not stay more than three days
at Cyprus, because of malaria there.' The Holy Land was in Turkish
hands, and the Turks, though willing to receive the pilgrims, for the
sake of the money they brought into the country, were not sorry to
have opportunities of teaching the 'Christian dogs' their place. The
authorities maintained some semblance of order and justice, but took
little trouble to control their underlings; and in consequence the
pilgrims suffered all kinds of minor oppressions. It is not surprising
therefore to find that the contract stipulated that the patron should
accompany them on all their journeyings in the Holy Land, even as far
as the Jordan, and that he should pay all the tolls and tributes for
them, except the small tips, just as Cook does to-day, and also make
all arrangements for such pilgrims as wished to go on to Sinai. In
view of this last possibility the stipulation was sometimes made that
only half the passage-money should be paid at Venice; the other half
at Jaffa on the return-journey. If a pilgrim died on the journey, the
patron might not bury him at sea, unless there was no immediate
prospect of reaching land.
The voyage outwards could be done in a month, but often took longer if
the weather was bad, or if long halts were made at Rhodes and Cyprus.
On shore the pilgrims worked as hard as any 'conducted' party to-day,
being herded about to one sacred site after another, to the Holy
Sepulchre, the vale of Josaphat, the Mount of Olives, Bethlehem, the
mountains of Judea, the Jordan, and receiving in each place 'clean
absolution'. Twelve or thirteen days was a fair time to allow for all
this, including one or two days each way between Jaffa and Jerusalem;
but Guilford's party were given 22. On the other hand we hear of
another company which did it in nine.
The Holy Land guide-book of which we spoke is full of practical advice
of all sorts: about distances, rates of exchange, terms of contract
with a ship-master, tributes to be paid to the Saracens, and finally
vocabularies of useful words, in Moresco, Greek, Turkish. Here are a
few specimens:
'If ye shall go in a galley, make your covenant with the patron
betime; and choose you a place in the said galley in the overmost
stage. For in the lowest under it is right evil and smouldering hot
and stinking.' The fare in this to Jaffa and back from Venice,
including food, was 50 ducats, 'for to be in a good honest place, and
to have your ease in the galley and also to be cherished'. In a
carrick the fare was only 30 ducats: there 'choose you a chamber as
nigh the middes of the ship as ye may; for there is least rolling or
tumbling, to keep your brain and stomach in temper'. Amongst other
arrangements to be made with the patron, 'Covenant that ye come not at
Famagust in Cyprus for no thing. For many Englishmen and other also
have died. For that air is so corrupt there about, and the water there
also. Also see that the said patron give you every day hot meat twice
at two meals, the forenoon at dinner and the afternoon at supper. And
that the wine that ye shall drink be good, and the water fresh and not
stinking, if ye come to have better, and also the biscuit.'
The traveller is recommended to buy in Venice a padlock with which to
keep his cabin locked, three barrels, two for wine and one for water,
and a chest to hold his stores and things: 'For though ye shall be at
table with the patron, yet notwithstanding, ye shall full ofttimes
have need to your own victuals, as bread, cheese, eggs, wine and other
to make your collation. For some time ye shall have feeble bread and
feeble wine and stinking water, so that many times ye will be right
fain to eat of your own.' Besides this he will want 'confections and
confortatives, green ginger, almonds, rice, figs, raisins great and
small, pepper, saffron, cloves and loaf sugar'. For equipment he
should take 'a little caldron, a frying-pan, dishes, plates, saucers,
cups of glass, a grater for bread and such necessaries'. 'Also ye
shall buy you a bed beside St. Mark's Church in Venice, where ye shall
have a featherbed, a mattress, a pillow, two pair sheets and a quilt'
for three ducats. 'And when ye come again, bring the same bed again,
and ye shall have a ducat and a half for it again, though it be broken
and worn. And mark his house and his name that ye bought it of,
against ye come to Venice.' Further needs are 'a cage for half a dozen
of hens or chickens' and 'half a bushel of millet seed for them': also
'a barrel for a siege for your chamber in the ship. It is full
necessary, if ye were sick, that ye come not in the air.' The malady
here considered is probably not that which is usually associated with
the sea; though pilgrims were not immune from this any more than from
other troubles.
On coming to haven towns, 'if ye shall tarry there three days, go
betimes to land, for then ye may have lodging before another; for it
will be taken up anon'. Similarly at Jaffa in choosing a mount for the
ride up to Jerusalem 'be not too long behind your fellows; for an ye
come betime, ye may choose the best mule' and 'ye shall pay no more
for the best than for the worst'. 'Also take good heed to your knives
and other small japes that ye bear upon you: for the Saracens will go
talking by you and make good cheer; but they will steal from you if
they may.' 'Also when ye shall ride to flume Jordan, take with you out
of Jerusalem bread, wine, water, hard eggs and cheese and such
victuals as ye may have for two days. For by all that way there is
none to sell.'
Let us turn now to an individual narrative,[38] that of Felix Fabri, a
learned and sensible Dominican of Ulm (1442-1502). He had already made
the journey once, out of piety, in 1480, with the company mentioned
above, which had only nine days on shore. He was desirous to go also
to St. Catherine's at Mount Sinai because she was his patroness-saint,
to whom he had devoted himself on entering the Dominican order on her
day (25 November) in 1452; and accordingly for the second time, in
1483, he procured from the Pope the permission, which every one
needed, to visit the Holy Land: those that went without this being
ipso facto excommunicate, until they did penance before the Warden of
the Franciscans at Jerusalem. He gives us a picture of all that he
went through, in the most minute details. During the day we see the
pilgrims crowded together on deck, some drinking and singing, others
playing dice or cards or that unfailing pastime for ship-life, chess.
Talking, reading, telling their beads, writing diaries, sleeping,
hunting in their clothes for vermin; so they spend their day. Some for
exercise climb up the rigging, or jump, or brandish heavy weights:
some drift about from one party to another, just watching what is
going on. Our good friar complains of the habits of the noblemen, who
gambled a great deal and were always making small wagers, which they
paid with a cup of Malmsey wine. He also tells how the patron, to
beguile the journey, produced a great piece of silk, which he offered
as a prize for the pilgrims to play for.
[38] It has been translated by Mr. Aubrey Stewart for the
Palestine Pilgrims' Text Society, vols. 7-10, 1892-3.
At meal times, to which they are summoned by trumpets, the pilgrims
race on to the poop: for they cannot all find seats, and those that
come late have to sit among the crew. Noblemen, who have their own
servants, are too fastidious to mingle with the crowd; and pay extra
to the cooks,--poor, sweating fellows, toiling crossly in a tiny
galley--for food which their servants bring to them on the main-deck,
or even below. After the pilgrims, the captain and his council dine in
state off silver dishes; and the captain's wine is tasted before he
drinks it. At night all sleep below, in a cabin the dirt of which is
indescribable. They wrangle over the places where they shall spread
their beds, and knives are drawn. Some obstinately keep their candles
burning, even though missiles come flying. Others talk noisily; and
the drunken, even when quiet, snore. No wonder the poor friar longed
for the peace of his own cell at home in Ulm.
Fabri has much practical advice to give. He bids his reader be careful
in going up and down the companion, veritably a ladder in those times;
not to sit down upon ropes, or on places covered with pitch, which
often melts in the sun; not to get in the way of the crew and make
them angry; not to drop things overboard or let his hat be blown off.
'Let the pilgrim beware of carrying a light upon deck at night; for
the mariners dislike this strangely, and cannot endure lights when
they are at work.' Small things are apt to be stolen, if left about:
for on board ship men have no other way to get what they want. 'While
you are writing, if you lay down your pen and turn your face away,
your pen will be lost, even though you be among men whom you know: and
if you lose it, you will have exceeding great trouble in getting
another.'
To Fabri's annoyance the ship's company included one woman, an elderly
lady, who came on board at the last moment with her husband, a
Fleming. 'She seemed,' he says, 'when we first saw her, to be restless
and inquisitive; as indeed she was. She ran hither and thither
incessantly about the ship, and was full of curiosity, wanting to hear
and see everything, and made herself hated exceedingly. Her husband
was a decent man, and for his sake many held their tongues; but had he
not been there, it would have gone hard with her. This woman was a
thorn in the eyes of us all.' His delight was great, when she was left
behind at Rhodes, having strayed away to some church outside the town.
'Except her husband, no one was sorry.' But their peace was
short-lived, for this active lady procured a boat and overtook them at
Cyprus; and Fabri could not help pitying the straits she had been put
to. We may rather admire her courage in undertaking the pilgrimage at
all, and especially the resource which she displayed on this very
unpleasant emergency.
On the eve of St. John Baptist, after dark, the sailors made St.
John's fire; stringing forty horn lanterns on a rope to the maintop,
amid shouts and trumpeting and clapping of hands. Upon which Fabri
makes this curious remark: 'Before this I never had beheld the
practice of clapping the hands for joy, as it is said in Psalm 46. Nor
could I have believed that the general clapping of many men's hands
would have such great power to move the human mind to rejoicing.' With
some misgiving he goes on to record that after the festivity the ship
was left to drive of itself, both pilgrims and sailors betaking
themselves to rest.
At Cyprus they had a few days, and Fabri led some of his companions to
the summit of Mount Stavrovuni, near their port Salinae (Citium by the
salt lakes of Larnaka), to visit the Church of Holy Cross--the cross
of Dismas, the thief on the right hand, said to have been brought by
that great finder of relics, the Empress Helena. By the way he was
careful to explain that they must expect no miracle: 'we shall see
none in Jerusalem, so how can there be one here?' In the church he
read them a mass and preached, and at departing rang the church bell,
saying that they would hear no bells again till they returned to
Christendom.
When they set sail again, all eyes were turned Eastwards: happy would
he be who should first sight the land of their desire. Fabri crept
forward to the prow of the galley and sat for hours upon the horns,
straining his gaze across the summer seas which whispered around the
ship's stem: almost, he confesses, cursing night when it fell and cut
off all hope till dawn. Before sunrise he was there again, and on 1
July the watchman in the maintop gave the glad shout. The pilgrims
flocked up on deck and sang Te Deum with bounding joy. It was a tumult
of harsh voices; but to Fabri in his happiness their various
dissonance made sweet harmony.
On reaching Jaffa they lay for some days awaiting permission to land.
At length all was ready. The ship's officers collected the tips due to
them, and the pilgrims were put on shore: falling to kiss the ground
as they struggled out of their boats through the surf. One by one they
were brought before Turkish officials, who took record of their names
and their fathers' names--an occasion on which noblemen often tried to
pass themselves off as of low degree, to escape the higher fees due.
Fabri notes that his Christian name, Felix, gave the official
recorders some trouble: that he pronounced it again and again for
them, but they could get nothing at all like it. Each pilgrim, when
entered, was hurried off by Saracens, like sheep into a pen, and
thrust into a row of caves along the sea-shore, known as St. Peter's
Cellars. If they had suffered on board ship, their sufferings were
multiplied now tenfold. Strict watch was kept upon them, and no one
was allowed to leave the caves. Within, the ground was covered with
semi-liquid filth. From the ship, as they lay waiting to land, Fabri
had noticed the Saracens running in and out of the caves; and he
argued that they were intentionally defiling them, to make it more
disagreeable to the Christian dogs. But this seems hardly necessary.
There had doubtless been other pilgrims before them. Droves of mankind
can tread ground into a foul swamp as cattle tread a farmyard. With
their feet the poor pilgrims managed to collect some of the impurities
together into a heap in the centre; each man clearing enough space to
lie down upon. Fabri found solace to his offended senses in thinking
of his dear Lord lying in a hard manger, amongst all the defilements
of the oxen.
After a time came traders selling rushes and branches of trees to make
beds, unguents and perfumes and frankincense to burn, and attar of
roses from Damascus. Others brought bread and water and lettuces and
hot cakes made with eggs, which the pilgrims gladly bought; and, as
the day wore on, with the much going to and fro the ground was slowly
dried under their feet. At nightfall appeared a man armed, whom they
took to be the owner of the caves. With menaces he extorted from each
of them a penny, and in the morning again, before they could come out,
another penny; to their great indignation against the captains and
dragoman, who were sleeping in tents higher up the hill, and had by
contract undertaken all these charges. So long as they were there, the
pilgrims suffered continual annoyance from the Turks, who ran in among
them pilfering, breaking any wine bottles they found, and provoking
them to blows, in order to secure the fines of which the pilgrims
would then be mulcted. One young man was so disgusted at it all that
he went back on board and gave up his pilgrimage; living with the crew
till the party came back from Jerusalem. They were indeed entirely in
the hands of the Turks. It was not a case of moving when they were
inclined. When the Turks wished, they were allowed to go forward: till
then they were confined like prisoners. No date was fixed: the
pilgrims just had to wait in patience, hoping that tomorrow or
tomorrow or tomorrow would see them start.
Fabri records, however, that there was some justice available. Petty
wrongs must go unredressed; but a pilgrim who had been gulled into
buying coloured glass as gems to the value of five ducats, recovered
his money by complaining to the local governor. A subordinate came
down, took the money from the fraudulent trader by force, and restored
it to its owner. Again Fabri testifies to the careful way in which the
escort protected the company from molestation on its way up to
Jerusalem. He is also at pains to refute the idea that the Turks
compelled them to ride on donkeys, lest the land should be defiled by
Christian feet: rather, he says, it is for our comfort and
convenience. And indeed there was sufficient refutation in the
regulation which compelled them to dismount on reaching any village
and proceed through its narrow streets on foot.
Whilst waiting at Jaffa, Fabri to his great delight fell in with the
donkey-boy who had gone up with him three years before; and was able
to secure him again. The boy welcomed him, especially as Fabri had
brought him a present of two iron stirrups from Ulm; and all the way
served him most faithfully, picking him figs and grapes from the
gardens they passed, sharing water and biscuit, and even giving him a
goad for his mount--a concession which was not allowed to the ordinary
pilgrim.
Their first march was to Ramlah, and on arrival they were penned for
the day into a great serai, built by a Duke of Burgundy. It was still
early, only 9 o'clock, for they had started before sunrise. After
barring the gate to keep out the Turks, they set up an altar and
celebrated mass. A sermon was preached by the Franciscan Warden of
Jerusalem, in the course of which he gave them advice as to their
behaviour towards those to whose tolerance they owed their position
there--counsels which forty years later the fiery spirit of Loyola
burned to set at nought, till the Franciscans were thankful to get him
safely out of Jerusalem without open flouting of the masters--: not to
go about alone; not to enter mosques or step over graves; not to
insult Saracens when at prayer or by touching their beards; not to
return blow for blow, but to make formal complaints; not to drink
wine openly; to observe decorum and not rush to be first at the sacred
sites; and generally to be circumspect in presence of the infidels,
lest they mark what was done amiss and say, 'O thou bad Christian', a
phrase which was familiar to them in both Italian and German. He
further charged them that they must on no account chip fragments off
the Holy Sepulchre and other sacred buildings; nor write their names
or coats of arms upon the walls; and finally, he advised them to be
careful in any money-transactions with Muhammadans, and to have no
dealings at all with either Eastern Christians or German Jews.
After mass was over, they opened the gate and found the outer court
filled with traders who brought them excellent food: fowls ready
roasted, puddings of rice and milk, capital bread and eggs, and fruit
of every kind, grapes, pomegranates, apples, oranges (pomerancia),
lemons and water-melons; and in the afternoon they were allowed to go
and have hot baths in the splendid marble hamáms. In the evening came
a rumour that they were to proceed. They packed up their bundles and
sat waiting for an hour or two; and then the rumour proved to be
false. Meanwhile the sleeping-mats which they had hired for their stay
had been rolled up by their owners and carried off; and the pilgrims
had to sleep as best they might. Fabri made his way up on to the roof
and passed the night there.
Waking early before sunrise he was much impressed to observe the
devotion of the Muhammadans at their morning prayers: the long rows of
kneeling figures, swaying forward together in reverent prostration,
the grave faces and solemn tones. Surely, as he looked, he must have
felt that God, even his God, was the God of all the earth, and would
be a Father to those that sought Him so earnestly. At any rate he
turned away, with a strong sense of contrast, to his own comrades
waking to the day with laughing chatter and no thought of prayer. An
episode of this halt was a visit from a Saracen fruit-seller upon whom
Fabri looked with curiosity. Then, taking the man's hat, he spat upon
it with every expression of disgust at its Saracen badge. The man,
instead of resenting it, looked cautiously round and then spat on the
badge himself, at the same time making the sign of the Cross. He was a
Christian who had been forced into conversion, probably in expiation
of some crime; and now hated his life. It was no uncommon thing. As
their procession wound through village streets, the pilgrims would
often see furtive signs made to them from inner chambers: unwilling
converts signalling the symbol that they loved, to eyes that were sure
to be sympathetic.
As Fabri made his way along, his heart was glad. His foot was on holy
ground, and at every step new associations came floating into his
thoughts. These were the mountains to which Moses had looked from
Pisgah; here Jephthah's daughter had made plaint for her young life;
hither had come Mary in the joy of the angel's message; the stones on
which he stumbled might have felt the feet of Christ. At the hill
called Mount Joy they should have seen Jerusalem; but the air was
thick, and they could only make out the Mount of Olives. So they
toiled on along their dusty way, between dry stone walls and thirsty
vegetable-gardens, until, as they reached the crest of a low ridge,
suddenly like a flash of light it shone before them, the City, the
Holy City.
At once their footsteps quickened with new life; and when at length
they found themselves in the courtyard of the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre, their pent-up emotions burst forth, into tears and groans,
sweet wailings and deep sighs. Some lay powerless on the ground,
forsaken by their strength and to all appearances dead. Others drifted
from one corner to another, beating their breasts, as though urged by
an evil spirit. Some knelt bare-kneed; as they prayed, stretching out
their arms like a rood. Others were shaken with such violent sobs that
they could only sit down and hold their heads in their hands. Some
lost all command of themselves, and, forgetting how to behave, sought
to please God with strange and childish gestures. On the other hand,
Fabri noted some who stood quite unmoved, and merely mocked at the
strange display: dull, unprofitable souls he calls them, brute beasts,
not having the spirit of God. Their self-contained temperament
misliked him, especially as thereafter they held aloof from those who
had given way to such enthusiasm or, as they felt it, weakness.
We cannot company with the party to all the numerous sites that piety
bade them visit. It was prodigiously fatiguing for them under the July
sun, and the ranks grew thin as the weaker spirits fell out dead
tired, to rest awhile in hospitable cloister or by cooling well. Fabri
found it very toilsome to struggle after mental abstraction, to rise
to such heights as he desired of devotion and comprehension of all the
holy influences around him, to seize every opportunity of
contemplation and lose nothing; being soon thoroughly exhausted with
his bodily exertions. Some alleviation there was: when holy
women--nuns of his own Order, who had a house in Jerusalem--washed his
scapular and tunic for him, and wrought other works of charity for
which he was very grateful.
The pilgrims had been warned not to wander away from their party. One
day as they went to the Dead Sea, they halted at a monastery; and
Fabri was tempted to ramble off alone to inspect a cliff which had
been hollowed out by hermits into innumerable caves. It was a
precipitous place; and at one point, where the path was narrow and the
cliff fell sheer below, he encountered an Eastern Christian. Seeing
that Fabri was afraid, the fellow began to trifle with him and
demanded money; and in the end Fabri was obliged to open his slender
purse. 'Ever since then', he says, 'I have abhorred the company of
Christians of that sort more than that of Saracens and Arabs, and have
trusted them less. Though perhaps he would not have thrown me down
the precipice, even had I given him nothing, yet it was wicked of him
to play with me in a place of such danger. If an Arab had done so, I
should have been pleased at his play, and should have held him to be a
good pagan; but I believe no good of that Christian.' When he rejoined
his party, the patron told him that the Eastern Christians were least
to be trusted of any men.
On arrival at Jordan there was much excitement. To bathe in that
ancient river was thought to renew youth, and so all the pilgrims were
eager to immerse themselves; even women of 80--a rather doubtful
figure--plunging into the lukewarm stream. Some had brought bells to
be blessed with Jordan water, others strips of material for clothes;
and wealthier members of the party jumped in as they were, in order
that the robes they had on might bring them luck in the future. Three
things were forbidden to the pilgrims: (1) to swim across the stream,
because in the excitement of emotion and amongst such crowds
individuals had often been drowned; (2) to dive in, because the bottom
was muddy; (3) to carry away phials of Jordan water. The first
regulation was openly violated. On his first journey Fabri had swum
across, but on the return had been seized with panic and nearly
drowned. So this time he contented himself with drawing up his
garments round his neck and sitting down in the shallow water among
the crowd who were splashing about and jestingly baptizing one
another. The prohibition of Jordan water was to appease the shipmen;
for it was thought to cause storms when carried over the sea.
We have not time to follow Fabri in more detail. On 24 August he left
Jerusalem with a small company of pilgrims who had not been deterred
from undertaking the journey to Sinai. There was much dispute about
the route they should follow. Some were for going by sea to
Alexandria, others wished to march down the sea coast; but finally
they made up their minds to go straight South across the desert.
Starting from Gaza on 9 September they reached St. Catherine's on the
22nd. Five days of very hard work sufficed for them to see all the
sacred sites and ascend the many towering peaks; and here again Fabri
impressed upon his companions that the days of miracles were over, and
that in these evil times God would show no more. On 27 September they
set forth again, and journeying through Midian reached Cairo on 8
October; having picked up on the shore of the Red Sea oyster shells
which should be an abiding witness of their pilgrimage. On 5 November
they set sail from Alexandria; but summer had departed from the sea,
and the winds blew obstinately. Three times they beat up to Cape
Malea, before they could round the point and make sail for the North;
and it was not till 8 Jan. 1484 that they landed in Venice. The
pilgrimage was over after seven months, and with what Guilford's
chaplain calls 'large departing of our money'.
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