Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory

Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory By Etruscan Corner

In the Middle Ages, setting out on pilgrimage was far more than simply undertaking a journey. It meant breaking, however temporarily, with one’s former life—a radical choice filled with faith, hope and mysticism, and often undertaken as an act of penance.

The pilgrim—the stranger who ventured beyond the borders of his own homeland—would set out towards the three great centres of Christianity: Rome, Santiago de Compostela and Jerusalem. Yet the destination might also be one of the great sanctuaries scattered throughout Italy.

The Wayfarer’s Rhyme

With a pack upon his back, sturdy shoes on his feet,
the pilgrim walks from hollow to hollow in the heat.
With a shell or with a cross,
he sings the journey in a quiet voice.
He crosses the woods, climbs the mountain,
drinks fresh water from every fountain,
until he reaches Rome or Santiago,
with peace alive within his heart.

In the Middle Ages, the physical presence of the sacred was of fundamental importance. To touch the relics of a martyr or the tomb of an apostle was believed to bring one into contact with that saint’s holiness and to secure a powerful intercessor in Heaven.

The journey itself was extremely dangerous, and many pilgrims never returned home. For this reason, before setting out, a pilgrim was expected to make a will, settle outstanding debts, ask forgiveness from those with whom he had quarrelled, and obtain the formal consent of both his spouse and the local bishop.

Pilgrim

Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory

Why Did People Set Out? The Motives Behind the Journey

Faith was the principal reason for pilgrimage, but beyond the spiritual dimension lay the harsh realities of medieval life. Ecclesiastical courts—and sometimes even secular courts—could impose pilgrimage as a sentence. The journey thus became a form of public penance, undertaken to atone for serious offences and to escape the overwhelming fear of Hell.

People also set out in search of healing from serious illness, to ask for protection for their families, or to pray for the birth of a child.

Pilgrimage was, in many ways, the perfect metaphor for medieval life itself: a difficult and dangerous journey through the earthly world, undertaken with unwavering faith in the hope of reaching the true and final spiritual homeland.

Pilgrimage and Memory

In the Middle Ages, the vast majority of the population was illiterate, and there were no public road maps in the modern sense of the word.

The itinerary compiled by Archbishop Sigeric was a precious written record in Latin, but it was accessible only to a small number of clerics. In AD 990, Sigeric, Archbishop of Canterbury, travelled to Rome to receive the pallium from the Pope—the official insignia of his investiture. On his journey back, he kept a diary in Latin in which he carefully recorded the seventy-nine stages, or *submansiones*, where he stopped for the night.

Today preserved at the British Library, this document provides an early written description of the route connecting Rome with England, crossing Italy, Switzerland and France. Sigeric’s guide served high-ranking ecclesiastical officials and messengers, helping them estimate travelling times—around 20 to 30 kilometres a day—and locate abbeys and fortified towns where they could find safe shelter, food and fresh horses.

Ordinary pilgrims, however, were generally unable to make use of Sigeric’s written itinerary. Along the road, they relied on other ways of exchanging information and remembering the route.

The Three Great Pilgrimage Cities

Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory

Once on the road, the pilgrim entered a world in which he could expect a degree of protection. He enjoyed the privileges associated with pilgrim status, including exemption from certain road tolls. Along major routes such as the Via Francigena, survival was supported by a dense network of *mansiones*, hospitals and monasteries, some of them managed by military-religious orders such as the Knights of the Tau or the Templars.

Here, travellers could find a hot and nourishing meal, a safe place to sleep and medical assistance before continuing their journey.

Rhymed Itineraries

In darkness and fog, the pilgrim could be guided by the sound of church bells and, during the day, by stone markers placed along the path. But there was another, less visible form of guidance: rhymes and short verses that helped travellers memorise the route and the landmarks they needed in order to find their way.

The landscape itself was organised through a network of meaningful places: villages and towns, sanctuaries and chapels, sites associated with apparitions, healing or protection; mountains and rocks linked to saints, hermits, devils or Marian apparitions; fountains, wells and springs believed to possess miraculous properties; trees and woods, bridges, crossroads and boundaries—all liminal spaces traditionally regarded as dangerous, mysterious or magical.

La Maestadella di Monte Martello - Cagli (PU)

Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory

The Memory Map

A rhyme could function as a mnemonic map without necessarily providing a realistic description of the landscape. Instead, it created an emotional and symbolic geography. Its repetitive structure made it easier to remember a sequence of places, assigning each one a particular Christian significance, story or event.

Coupled or alternating rhyme, together with a steady rhythm - often echoing the pace of walking or the gait of a horse - helped imprint the succession of stages in the traveller’s memory.

A pilgrim could remember a sequence of ten or twenty stages between villages, monasteries and crossroads far more easily when they were linked by the sound and rhythm of words. Forgetting or altering a verse could immediately reveal that part of the route had been missed.

Each stanza might contain a visual landmark - a church, an abbey, an ancient oak- or an auditory one, such as the sound of a bell. Such references could help travellers avoid becoming lost in the woods or along ancient roads.

Sacred Springs

Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory

The Search for Water

Finding drinking water along the road was a matter of survival. Travellers learned rhymes that indicated the distance between one spring and another, measured through footsteps or described in relation to natural landmarks.

The Rhyme of the Old Spring

Leave the woods and turn by the branch,
look for the tower where the water falls.
Count a hundred steps from the old stone wall,
and you will find Saint Benedict’s spring.
Drink from the cool and flowing source;
refresh your body, refresh your mind.

The Clear Water Route

If thirst begins to trouble you,
three landmarks will see you through.
Cross the bridge beside the Abbey,
keep to the road that runs straight and steady.
When you see the great poplar grove,
there lies the spring among the reeds.

Finding the Way by the Sound of Bells

When fog or darkness made the road difficult to see, travellers could sometimes determine their location by listening to the different bells ringing across the landscape. Each monastery or cathedral had its own sound and rhythm, which could be remembered through rhyme.

If Saint John is ringing, keep walking straight ahead.
If you hear the Abbey, you are on the proper way.
But if the Cathedral tolls its bell, turn your steps and heed the sound:
the road beside the ditch will lead you safely to the meadow.

The Great Bell Tower

Ding-dong, the great bell tower rings,
a sure guide for travellers and their belongings.
When the fog erases the path
and the deep forest becomes a mystery,
the bronze voice travels upon the wind,
showing the way to those who are lost and afraid.

At dawn it wakes the weary farmer,
at noon it gathers the village together.
When the sky grows dark and evening falls,
the curfew bell begins to call:
return home, wandering traveller,
the voice of the village has never disappeared.

No compass is needed, nor any star,
if in the darkness you listen for that distant sound.
Follow the bell that marks the hours;
it will lead you towards the village gates.
It warms the road and guides the traveller,
giving courage to those who journey on.

The Lighthouse of the Old Abbey

When the fog descends upon the plain,
listen for the voice of the bell.
Two strokes mean the church is near,
three strokes tell you the hill is there.
Follow the sound and do not stray,
for the Abbey will shelter you along the way.

The Lighthouse of the Old Abbey (2)

At the top of the Abbey
stands a tower of magic.
Far from any sea or wave,
its light spreads across the hill.

It is the lighthouse of the paths,
a beacon for dreamers and knights.
It turns and shines throughout the night,
guiding footsteps towards the caves.

The owl says to the little owl:

“Look at the beacon on the height!
As long as the Abbey shines,
fear will stay away.”

Sleep slowly settles over the land,
and night waves softly from afar.
The beacon dims and hides its star.
Goodnight to this beautiful tale.

Churches and monasteries were not merely places of prayer. They were also true “lighthouses” within the landscape, often situated roughly a day’s journey apart.

The Rhyme of the Three Sanctuaries was used by pilgrims to remember the order of the stages and avoid taking the wrong paths through the valleys.

First comes the church upon the high hill,
reached by a steep and tiring climb.
Then down into the valley towards the Abbey,
where Saint Roch will show the way.
Third comes the parish church of the Saviour,
where you can stop and rest awhile.

The Way of the Seven Churches

Saint Peter is the first; the road lies near.
Saint Paul is second; the valley is deep.
At the third stands John—beware the ravines.
At the fourth stands Mary—you are halfway there.
Look for the tower, look for the convent;
if you see the cross, you are safe from the wind.

The Rhyme of the Three Parish Churches

Leave the hill and look towards the parish church,
where the sun melts the snow.
Descend into the valley towards the Abbey,
where the friars will show you the way.
If you see the Sanctuary high upon the mountain,
you will know that the journey is nearly over.

La Torre della Smarrita di Altopascio (LU)

Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory

The Bell of the Lost

The story of the “Bell of the Lost” is connected with the Via Francigena and takes us deep into the world of the Middle Ages.

Altopascio, near Lucca, was a strategic yet frightening passage for travellers. The area was associated with brigands and wolves, while marshes, quicksand and pools created a treacherous landscape in which a single wrong step could have fatal consequences.

During autumn and winter, the entire plain could disappear beneath a dense, impenetrable fog, erasing familiar landmarks and making even experienced travellers lose their bearings.

To help save the lives of pilgrims, the Knights of the Tau—the religious and military order responsible for the Hospital of Altopascio—developed what might be described as a “sound lighthouse”.

A bell known as *La Smarrita*, “The Lost One”, was installed in the bell tower of the Church of San Jacopo. Every evening, throughout the year, a monk would climb the tower at dusk and begin to ring it. The sound continued for hours, often throughout much of the night.

The deep, rhythmic voice of *La Smarrita* could penetrate the fog and carry for kilometres across the marshes. Pilgrims who had been separated from their companions, overtaken by darkness or trapped in the fog only had to follow the direction of the sound to reach safety, knowing that behind those distant peals lay a warm bed, a meal and the protective walls of the hospital.

The historic medieval bell tower can still be seen today, while the memory of *La Smarrita* has survived as a powerful symbol of hospitality and universal solidarity.

The Rogation Processions

Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory

The Rhymes of the Boundaries

(The Rogation Processions)

In the Middle Ages, a tradition known as Rogation involved springtime processions in which monks and farmers walked along the boundaries of their village, blessing the fields and singing rhymes, litanies and prayers.

They stopped at wayside shrines and crosses to ask for protection from natural disasters and to encourage the fertility of the land.

The processions also served an important educational purpose: they taught children to memorise the boundaries of the village and its significant landmarks, including votive shrines, springs and crossroads.

This form of oral orientation was essential to the survival of local communities. In an age without cadastral maps and registers, it provided a way of passing knowledge of the local landscape from one generation to the next.

The Counting of the Sacred Boundary

Round the ditch and past the stone,
this is the boundary of the land we own.
From the little church to the spring,
the whole field looks towards the mountain.
There stands the Madonna shrine,
where the boundary bends and turns.
Touch the stone or move the marker,
and Saint Benedict’s wrath will find you!

The Sacred Boundary

One - the stone set in the meadow,
two - the furrow traced from heaven,
three - the line that divides the wood,
four - the time entrusted to the world.

Five, six - the enchanted stone,
seven - the ancient sacred marker,
eight - the boundary, solemn and old,
nine - the circle held beneath our feet.

Ten is the limit, the gate of heaven,
where earth comes to an end beneath its veil.

Pilgrims’ Songs

During the long days of walking, pilgrims often sang together. Alongside famous hymns preserved in historical collections such as the *Codex Calixtinus* and the *Llibre Vermell de Montserrat*, travelling communities created and passed down songs in the vernacular.

Many of these songs contained descriptions of the landscape itself. They could indicate where to turn when the road entered a wood, how far away a dangerous river lay, or which small churches and springs offered shelter, food or water.

The hymn Dum Pater Familias is among the most famous pilgrim songs preserved in the *Codex Calixtinus* (12th century), whose fifth book is often regarded as an early guide to the Way of Saint James.

It describes roads, springs, dangers and local populations, while offering practical advice to pilgrims: where to stop, which relics to venerate, which sanctuaries to visit and which poor-quality foods or commercial scams to avoid. According to the author, the latter even included certain churches that claimed to possess relics of Saint James.

The work provides a valuable glimpse into the life of a twelfth-century pilgrim, as well as descriptions of Santiago de Compostela and its cathedral.

Yet perhaps the most remarkable aspect is the first book, which contains an extensive collection of sacred music and liturgical songs for pilgrims, including *Dum Pater Familias*. Combining Latin, German and vernacular languages, the song was performed to encourage travellers and bring together pilgrims from different countries.

Herru Santiagu, Got Santiagu, E ultreia, e suseia, Deus adiuva nos.

This refrain echoed through cathedrals and along the roads of pilgrimage like a cry of fellowship. Singing the same hymn together helped travellers feel that they belonged to a single, protected community.

Music, however, had more than a spiritual function. It could also support the physical effort of walking.

A journey of eight to ten hours a day, under the sun or through mud, required a steady rhythm to help prevent premature muscular fatigue. Songs could assist travellers in three principal ways.

Synchronising the Pace: Many traditional travelling songs used clearly defined rhythmic patterns - such as the iamb and the trochee - that could mirror the alternating movement of the right and left foot.

Iamb: a short syllable followed by a long one, or an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed one. Its rhythm rises and drives forward.

Trochee: a long syllable followed by a short one, or a stressed syllable followed by an unstressed one. Its rhythm falls and creates a steady cadence.

Regulating Breathing: Singing encouraged the pilgrim to inhale and exhale at regular intervals. This rhythmic breathing could help regulate exertion and make long climbs—such as Alpine or Pyrenean passes—more manageable.

The Psychological Effect of the “Walking Trance”: Repeated group singing, almost hypnotically sustained for kilometres, could distract the mind from blisters, hunger, exhaustion and the fear of brigands, offering psychological relief from the hardships of the journey.

Codex Calixtinus

Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory

The Stone Signs of the Pilgrims

In an age without modern signposts, pilgrims travelling along major routes of faith such as the Via Francigena or the Way of Saint Benedict could rely on stone markers left by those who had travelled before them.

These signs helped travellers remain on the correct path and communicate directions to those who followed.

“Cairns”, or small stone towers, were made by carefully balancing flat stones one on top of another. They could be placed at crossroads, on hilltops or wherever vegetation, mud or erosion made the path difficult to recognise.

Each passing pilgrim was expected to add another stone, helping to maintain the marker for those who came after.

Cairns and Stone Markers

Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory

Milestones and “Maestà”

Large stones and small roadside votive shrines—the *maestà* or *capannette*—could be found along the edges of roads. Often decorated with an engraved cross, they were associated with the safety and protection of the road.

If a stone bore the image of a key, the symbol of Saint Peter, it was understood to indicate a route leading towards Rome.

The “Feet of Saint Roch” and Engraved Rocks

In popular belief, rocks bearing natural hollows shaped like footprints were often associated with the passage of Saint Roch, patron saint of pilgrims and plague sufferers, or with other travelling saints.

Rock markings resembling footprints, scallop shells or crosses could indicate traditional stopping places, sometimes near hidden springs or caves used as shelters.

When pilgrims encountered such rocks, they might perform a ritual gesture: placing their own foot inside the hollow or touching it with the tip of their staff.

According to popular belief, this act allowed them to “absorb” the saint’s strength, easing fatigue, protecting their feet from painful sores and relieving the muscular pain caused by long hours on the road.

At more complex crossroads, travellers might encounter small stylised scallop shells carved directly into the rock, associated with the Way of Saint James. The open side of the shell indicated the direction to follow.

Medieval Pilgrims

Sacred Landscape, Pilgrimage and Memory

Il Passaporto del Pellegrino

A pilgrim’s clothing was more than simple attire. In the Middle Ages, it could function as a universal language and even as a form of legal protection.

The distinctive objects and symbols worn by pilgrims allowed travellers who spoke different languages to recognise one another, offer assistance and benefit from the protections associated with pilgrimage.

Sewing a particular symbol onto one’s clothing—whether on the heavy cloak known as the *schiavina* or on the broad-brimmed hat called the *petasus*—was almost like displaying an international passport.

Those who attacked or robbed a pilgrim bearing these recognised symbols could face severe penalties, including excommunication.

The symbols varied according to the destination of the pilgrimage.

The scallop shell: the universal symbol of those travelling to Santiago de Compostela.

The Keys of Saint Peter or the Veronica: distinctive signs associated with pilgrims travelling to Rome.

Palms or small crosses: symbols associated with pilgrims returning from the Holy Land.

The pilgrim did not travel in ordinary clothing, but wore what could be regarded as a kind of “uniform”, traditionally blessed by a priest during a solemn Mass.

Each object carried a particular symbolic meaning.

The Schiavina, or cloak: a garment made of coarse, heavy fabric that could also serve as a blanket at night, symbolising poverty and humility.

The Petasus, or hat: broad-brimmed, protecting the pilgrim from the sun and rain.

The Staff: a wooden travelling staff with an iron tip. It was described as the traveller’s “third leg”, symbolically associated with the Trinity, and could also serve as protection against wolves and stray dogs.

The Bisaccia, or satchel: a leather bag deliberately left open. It symbolised the pilgrim’s dependence on charity and Providence, as well as his readiness to share food with others.

The Pancristiano

In the Middle Ages, many pilgrims travelled across Italy along the Romea and Via Francigena routes on their way to Rome. Along the road they could receive shelter and food, and one ancient tradition associated with hospitality was the *Pancristiano*: bread offered in the spirit of Christian charity. Those who were more fortunate might receive a few vegetables as well.

Today almost forgotten, yet rich in history and meaning, the *Pancristiano* represents an evocative expression of medieval rural culture. It was more than food: it was a symbol of hospitality, charity and sharing.

Thus, step after step on the road to Rome, the Pancristiano offered comfort not only to the body but also to the soul.

Its preparation was simple yet surprisingly satisfying: a piece of stale bread soaked in milk and egg, then fried. Simple, nourishing ingredients that could help a weary traveller recover some of the energy spent on the road.