“Somos peregrinantes,
y al separarnos tristes,
bien sabemos que,
aunque seguimos rutas my distantes,
al fin de la jornada nos veremos. . . . ”


—Georgiana Goddard King, The Way of St. James

7/2/01

THE EIGHTEENTH DAY

“Good thoughts his onely friendes . . . And quiet Pilgrimage.”

____ Thomas Campion[i]

Depart Reliegos

Past dry pond-beds Laguna Ibera and
Arroyo Grande

Into Mansilla de las Mulas through the arch of Santa María
Depart Mansilla over the eight-arched bridge spanning the ríoEsla

Through Villa- moros de Mansilla

Over the río Moro and the río Porma into Villa-rente

Uphill to Araca-hueja by San-felismo

Public wash house

To Valde-fuente

Stone cross at the Alto de Portillo

Downhill to the puente del Castro

Over the río Bernesga


Into León, Legio VII Gemina

On the Way: Reliegos to León
I got up early in Reliegos, and Randi and I the refugio before dawn, but could not find our way out of town. It was dark, and the yellow arrows that pilgrims rely on had been defaced during some recent roadwork. Other pilgrims confronted the same predicament. Finally, we met Margarita, a Spanish pilgrim from Barcelona who had walked the Way before, and could lead us straight out of the town of Reliegos. It was so that we misspent 45 minutes walking vainly around the small town of Reliegos in the wee hours of the morning.
The walk between Reliegos and Mansilla de las Mulas was essentially a repeat of the prior two days. At Mansilla we stopped for some coffee and breakfast, and then crossed the eight-arched bridge over the Esla river. From Mansilla, the Camino ran with the carretera, the N-601. There was a path for those on foot, a sendero peatonal, which ran by the highway. It was a straight trail past the río Moro to the town of Villamoros de Mansilla. We traveled through Villamoros until we reached the town of Villarente on the other side of the río Porma.
At Villarente the bridge over the río Porma, which crosses the river just north of where it joins with another river whose name I was never able to determine in any of my maps or guides, is twenty arch-bays long and built along a curve. On the left of the bridge was an old pilgrim’s hospital, founded in the 16th century. It is now a restaurant. In his medieval gift deed to the hospital, the founder made provisions for a donkey, whose task it was to ambulance any sick pilgrim if need be to the hospitals in León. The restaurant takes this land free from that asinine but charitable burden appurtenant. Unlike the hospital, any service it does give is for pay—you cannot eat there for free. The hospital was built for charity and under its laws; the restaurant under profit and under its laws.
Just beyond Villarente the Camino parts from the carretera, but follows it generally parallel. From Villarente we traveled by the village of Sanfelismo to the town of Arcahueja, with its small church, its red adobe houses, with red adobe walls, behind red adobe enclosures, on red clay lots.
Between Arcahueja and León I played with a cream colored dog, who sat in a field about 150 to 200 yards away. I whistled the four-fingered whistle I had learned from a frizzy, brown haired boy—a friend of my youth—and the dog ran toward León for about 50 yards, and waited until I caught up with him. Then I whistled again, and he ran another 50 yards and stopped. And so we continued for about a quarter of a mile until the dog got bored and quit.
We entered León from the south, passing the puente del Castro over the río Torrío into the Plaza de Santa Ana and the church of St. Anne. The road was not one of enchantment, for most of it ran by an immensely busy carretera and the shoulder was very narrow. It took several hours of walking on hard pavement before we saw the towers of the cathedral and felt the end was in sight.
Once in the old city of León we stopped by the pilgrim’s refuge, which was attached to a Benedictine nunnery. There we rested, looked for a hotel, found one and checked in. My feet had no new blisters, and the ones I had were on the mend. However, my feet were now showing the incipient signs of athlete’s foot. I treated the blisters with care, and the fungus with medicament. Then I walked to the cathedral.
I I I



On the Way: The Cathedral of León
O Pulchra Leonina, Cathedral of León, Temple of Colored Glass, Daughter of Rheims, and Receptory of God and God’s Forgiveness, what can I say of you? Picaud says that León is packed with great riches, but none as resplendent as you, Jewel of the Living God. Belloc says that in the windows of all the great cathedrals are all their meaning. If so, you, Cathedral of León, are about the Light of Glory and the Victory of Grace. For your windows are like curtains of kaleidoscopic glass, nay, not glass, for they appeared so thin so as to look as if they were of a magical cloth that billowed even in the delicate gradients of the Cathedral air. To walk within you is like walking in the heart of an ethereal jewel, in the airy lights of the eye of the whirling heights of heaven, for you are all form and light, and immaterial. You are too fine to be of earth, Angel of Cathedrals. I shall never forget you, Basilica of Heaven in León, for within you I was bathed in Light, and in that Light I moved, and lived, and had my being.
What a gift you gave me! For within your walls of glass and next to the dusty bones of the hermit of Moreruela and bishop of León, St. Froilan, live men also of dust but still on earthly pilgrimage. These men of dust are dressed in black cassocks, but are ordained as priests of the Most High God. In your bosom of rock, next to your Divine Heart, before the Altar of St. Peter, I received the Sacrament of Penance from the hands of one of these. I read there by the figure of the full-bearded Peter above the altar next to the confessional the words of Jesus as found in the Gospel of Matthew: “Et tibi dabo claves regni caelorum. Et quodcumque ligaveris super terram, erit legatum et in caelis: et quodcumque solveris super terram, erit solutum et in caelis.” Within your walls of glass, a silver-haired cassocked priest with the keys of Mercy absolved me of all sins and bound heaven to it. He gave me a Salve for my penance, and so tied you in a knot with Roncesvalles. There he warmed my heart when he told me what I had been given by the God Whom you glorify: a gracia especial, a special grace to be a pilgrim and be on pilgrimage.
I I I




Legio urbs regalis et curialis, cunctis-que felici-tatibus plena















On the Way: Visit to San Isidoro
After we visited the Cathedral, we had a quick snack. I was famished, but wanted to go to Mass and the Conventual Mass at the Basilica of Saint Isidore. So I had some beer, olives, and nuts, and quit an hour before the service started, to comply with the requirement of the fast. I paid the waitress and went to Saint Isidore’s.
We went into St. Isidore’s by way of the puerta del Cordero, the portal of the Lamb. We thus walked under the protection of Santiago Matamoros, below the typmpanum which showed the Sacrifice of Isaac—type of the Sacrifice of the Cross—and between the watchful eyes of Sts. Pelagius and Isidore.



Picaud tells us in the Pilgrim’s Guide that “in the city of León, one ought to pay a visit to the venerable remains of the Blessed Isidore, bishop, confessor and doctor, who established a most pious rule for ecclesiastical clerics, infused the Hispanic nation with its doctrines, and decorated the entire holy Church with the flower of his writings.”[ii] De riguer is it, then, for any pilgrim to Compostela to visit the remains of St. Isidore, brought to León from Seville by King Ferdinand. The remains rest in a simple but shapely silver urn above the altar and below the golden monstrance, which in its pyx holds the Blessed Sacrament and St. Isidore’s Lord to be perpetually adored there.
The liturgy at San Isidro was a marvelous delight. The full group of canons was there to celebrate Vespers and the Conventual Mass. The people celebrated with great vigor. The Mass was concelebrated by all priests, was regular, and was celebrated in accordance with the rubrics. It was the Feast of St. Benedict, patron of Europe. Orare et laborare was Benedict’s motto, pray and work. I thought of the way that applied to the work of a vagrant pilgrim, Orare et ambulare, pray and walk. I thought of the Polish pilgrim in Reliegos, Thomas, and what a little providence it was that we should have met the fellow who wore the key that unlocked the mystery of the medal of St. Benedict on the eve of that Saint’s feast.
I I I


Inde apud urbem Legionem visitan-dum est corpus veneran-dum Beati Ysidori episcopi et confes-soris sive doctoris, qui regulam clericis ecclesi-asticis instituit, et gentem Yspa-nicam suis doctrinis imbuit, tatamque sanctam aeccle-siam codicibus suis florigeris decoravit

In the Panteón de los Reyes, under the main Church of San Isidoro, above the sarcophogi of the Kings of León that were raided by the troops of Napoleon’s army to rob the dead regents of their jewels, are frescos dating from the 12th century. There, in tempera of shades of red, yellow, ochre, gray and black, artists anonymous have painted of earth and of heaven, of time and of eternity, of flesh and of spirit. The centerpiece of this marriage of heaven and earth is Christ in Glory, who sits within a mandorla. O Lux Mundi! Light of the World! You reign in Heaven. Reign also on Earth! You are the Alpha. You are the Omega. You are the beginning and You are the End and You are all in between. Before the Alpha You Were. After the Omega You shall be. You Eternal Word of God sit in Judgment of all creation and all creatures. You bring all things to Light. Your right hand blesses with the mysteries of the Triune God and the Mysteries of the Word Made Flesh. Your presence is witnessed by the four Evangelists—three of brute mien, and one with the countenance of a man—which frame and surround your throne of Grace. I could almost hear them saying, “Holy, Holy, Holy God Almighty, Who was, and Who is, and Who is to come!” This Image I want in my heart!
k





[i] Thomas Campion (1567-1620), The Works of Thomas Campion, ed. W. Davies (1969), p. 43, quoted in Robinson, Anthology, p. 91.
[ii] Melczer, Pilgrim’s Guide, at 118. “Good thoughts his onely friendes . . . And quiet Pilgrimage.”

____ Thomas Campion[i]

Depart Reliegos

Past dry pond-beds Laguna Ibera and
Arroyo Grande

Into Mansilla de las Mulas through the arch of Santa María
Depart Mansilla over the eight-arched bridge spanning the ríoEsla

Through Villa- moros de Mansilla

Over the río Moro and the río Porma into Villa-rente

Uphill to Araca-hueja by San-felismo

Public wash house

To Valde-fuente

Stone cross at the Alto de Portillo

Downhill to the puente del Castro

Over the río Bernesga


Into León, Legio VII Gemina

On the Way: Reliegos to León
I got up early in Reliegos, and Randi and I the refugio before dawn, but could not find our way out of town. It was dark, and the yellow arrows that pilgrims rely on had been defaced during some recent roadwork. Other pilgrims confronted the same predicament. Finally, we met Margarita, a Spanish pilgrim from Barcelona who had walked the Way before, and could lead us straight out of the town of Reliegos. It was so that we misspent 45 minutes walking vainly around the small town of Reliegos in the wee hours of the morning.
The walk between Reliegos and Mansilla de las Mulas was essentially a repeat of the prior two days. At Mansilla we stopped for some coffee and breakfast, and then crossed the eight-arched bridge over the Esla river. From Mansilla, the Camino ran with the carretera, the N-601. There was a path for those on foot, a sendero peatonal, which ran by the highway. It was a straight trail past the río Moro to the town of Villamoros de Mansilla. We traveled through Villamoros until we reached the town of Villarente on the other side of the río Porma.
At Villarente the bridge over the río Porma, which crosses the river just north of where it joins with another river whose name I was never able to determine in any of my maps or guides, is twenty arch-bays long and built along a curve. On the left of the bridge was an old pilgrim’s hospital, founded in the 16th century. It is now a restaurant. In his medieval gift deed to the hospital, the founder made provisions for a donkey, whose task it was to ambulance any sick pilgrim if need be to the hospitals in León. The restaurant takes this land free from that asinine but charitable burden appurtenant. Unlike the hospital, any service it does give is for pay—you cannot eat there for free. The hospital was built for charity and under its laws; the restaurant under profit and under its laws.
Just beyond Villarente the Camino parts from the carretera, but follows it generally parallel. From Villarente we traveled by the village of Sanfelismo to the town of Arcahueja, with its small church, its red adobe houses, with red adobe walls, behind red adobe enclosures, on red clay lots.
Between Arcahueja and León I played with a cream colored dog, who sat in a field about 150 to 200 yards away. I whistled the four-fingered whistle I had learned from a frizzy, brown haired boy—a friend of my youth—and the dog ran toward León for about 50 yards, and waited until I caught up with him. Then I whistled again, and he ran another 50 yards and stopped. And so we continued for about a quarter of a mile until the dog got bored and quit.
We entered León from the south, passing the puente del Castro over the río Torrío into the Plaza de Santa Ana and the church of St. Anne. The road was not one of enchantment, for most of it ran by an immensely busy carretera and the shoulder was very narrow. It took several hours of walking on hard pavement before we saw the towers of the cathedral and felt the end was in sight.
Once in the old city of León we stopped by the pilgrim’s refuge, which was attached to a Benedictine nunnery. There we rested, looked for a hotel, found one and checked in. My feet had no new blisters, and the ones I had were on the mend. However, my feet were now showing the incipient signs of athlete’s foot. I treated the blisters with care, and the fungus with medicament. Then I walked to the cathedral.
I I I



On the Way: The Cathedral of León
O Pulchra Leonina, Cathedral of León, Temple of Colored Glass, Daughter of Rheims, and Receptory of God and God’s Forgiveness, what can I say of you? Picaud says that León is packed with great riches, but none as resplendent as you, Jewel of the Living God. Belloc says that in the windows of all the great cathedrals are all their meaning. If so, you, Cathedral of León, are about the Light of Glory and the Victory of Grace. For your windows are like curtains of kaleidoscopic glass, nay, not glass, for they appeared so thin so as to look as if they were of a magical cloth that billowed even in the delicate gradients of the Cathedral air. To walk within you is like walking in the heart of an ethereal jewel, in the airy lights of the eye of the whirling heights of heaven, for you are all form and light, and immaterial. You are too fine to be of earth, Angel of Cathedrals. I shall never forget you, Basilica of Heaven in León, for within you I was bathed in Light, and in that Light I moved, and lived, and had my being.
What a gift you gave me! For within your walls of glass and next to the dusty bones of the hermit of Moreruela and bishop of León, St. Froilan, live men also of dust but still on earthly pilgrimage. These men of dust are dressed in black cassocks, but are ordained as priests of the Most High God. In your bosom of rock, next to your Divine Heart, before the Altar of St. Peter, I received the Sacrament of Penance from the hands of one of these. I read there by the figure of the full-bearded Peter above the altar next to the confessional the words of Jesus as found in the Gospel of Matthew: “Et tibi dabo claves regni caelorum. Et quodcumque ligaveris super terram, erit legatum et in caelis: et quodcumque solveris super terram, erit solutum et in caelis.” Within your walls of glass, a silver-haired cassocked priest with the keys of Mercy absolved me of all sins and bound heaven to it. He gave me a Salve for my penance, and so tied you in a knot with Roncesvalles. There he warmed my heart when he told me what I had been given by the God Whom you glorify: a gracia especial, a special grace to be a pilgrim and be on pilgrimage.
I I I




Legio urbs regalis et curialis, cunctis-que felici-tatibus plena















On the Way: Visit to San Isidoro
After we visited the Cathedral, we had a quick snack. I was famished, but wanted to go to Mass and the Conventual Mass at the Basilica of Saint Isidore. So I had some beer, olives, and nuts, and quit an hour before the service started, to comply with the requirement of the fast. I paid the waitress and went to Saint Isidore’s.
We went into St. Isidore’s by way of the puerta del Cordero, the portal of the Lamb. We thus walked under the protection of Santiago Matamoros, below the typmpanum which showed the Sacrifice of Isaac—type of the Sacrifice of the Cross—and between the watchful eyes of Sts. Pelagius and Isidore.



Picaud tells us in the Pilgrim’s Guide that “in the city of León, one ought to pay a visit to the venerable remains of the Blessed Isidore, bishop, confessor and doctor, who established a most pious rule for ecclesiastical clerics, infused the Hispanic nation with its doctrines, and decorated the entire holy Church with the flower of his writings.”[ii] De riguer is it, then, for any pilgrim to Compostela to visit the remains of St. Isidore, brought to León from Seville by King Ferdinand. The remains rest in a simple but shapely silver urn above the altar and below the golden monstrance, which in its pyx holds the Blessed Sacrament and St. Isidore’s Lord to be perpetually adored there.
The liturgy at San Isidro was a marvelous delight. The full group of canons was there to celebrate Vespers and the Conventual Mass. The people celebrated with great vigor. The Mass was concelebrated by all priests, was regular, and was celebrated in accordance with the rubrics. It was the Feast of St. Benedict, patron of Europe. Orare et laborare was Benedict’s motto, pray and work. I thought of the way that applied to the work of a vagrant pilgrim, Orare et ambulare, pray and walk. I thought of the Polish pilgrim in Reliegos, Thomas, and what a little providence it was that we should have met the fellow who wore the key that unlocked the mystery of the medal of St. Benedict on the eve of that Saint’s feast.
I I I


Inde apud urbem Legionem visitan-dum est corpus veneran-dum Beati Ysidori episcopi et confes-soris sive doctoris, qui regulam clericis ecclesi-asticis instituit, et gentem Yspa-nicam suis doctrinis imbuit, tatamque sanctam aeccle-siam codicibus suis florigeris decoravit

In the Panteón de los Reyes, under the main Church of San Isidoro, above the sarcophogi of the Kings of León that were raided by the troops of Napoleon’s army to rob the dead regents of their jewels, are frescos dating from the 12th century. There, in tempera of shades of red, yellow, ochre, gray and black, artists anonymous have painted of earth and of heaven, of time and of eternity, of flesh and of spirit. The centerpiece of this marriage of heaven and earth is Christ in Glory, who sits within a mandorla. O Lux Mundi! Light of the World! You reign in Heaven. Reign also on Earth! You are the Alpha. You are the Omega. You are the beginning and You are the End and You are all in between. Before the Alpha You Were. After the Omega You shall be. You Eternal Word of God sit in Judgment of all creation and all creatures. You bring all things to Light. Your right hand blesses with the mysteries of the Triune God and the Mysteries of the Word Made Flesh. Your presence is witnessed by the four Evangelists—three of brute mien, and one with the countenance of a man—which frame and surround your throne of Grace. I could almost hear them saying, “Holy, Holy, Holy God Almighty, Who was, and Who is, and Who is to come!” This Image I want in my heart!
k





[i] Thomas Campion (1567-1620), The Works of Thomas Campion, ed. W. Davies (1969), p. 43, quoted in Robinson, Anthology, p. 91.
[ii] Melczer, Pilgrim’s Guide, at 118.

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