The work of reconstruction, which had been commenced about the year 1082, he not only actively continued, but also proposed to the chapter to build cloisters and offices, as well as commodious lodgings for those who came on pilgrimage from distant lands, engaging for his part to pay a hundred marks of pure silver towards the expense.
The sole aim of this prelate was the glory of God and the honor of St. James, never his own worldly advantage; the people knew this, and that the use made of their offerings was always in conformity with their intentions. The times, however, were troubled, and the archbishop had his share of their disquiet.
Queen Urraca, the sister of Alfonso VI. of Castile and Leon, and widow of Raymond of Burgundy, claimed as her right, until her son should be old enough to reign, the government of Castile and the countries dependent on it, while her second husband, Alfonso of Aragon, repudiated these pretensions. Gemirez, whose influence was so great that he might be regarded as the real sovereign of the country, took the part of Urraca, and her cause prospered for a time, owing to the weight of his support; but she ruined her own case by her haughtiness and ambition; a rebellion broke out, and the prelate narrowly escaped falling a victim to the fury of the populace, who set fire to the cathedral. Happily, the solidity of its structure was such as to resist the flames, the interior wood-work and fittings, etc., only being destroyed, so that not many years afterwards, in 1117, we find the archbishop, in an address to his canons, able to speak of it as one of the richest and most beautiful as well as one of the most illustrious churches in the world.
In 1130 Gemirez ended his career, but not until he had lived to see the work far advanced towards its completion. We hear no more of its progress for forty years afterwards. The crosses of the consecration, which are still to be seen, are floriated at their extremities, and between the arms are the sun and moon above, and the letters [Greek: A Ô] below, some of them bearing also a date which appears to be that of 1154.
The pilgrims, who came in continuous multitudes, had innumerable perils to encounter on their way. The roads were bad; the countries through which they passed often so barren and thinly peopled that they were in danger of dying of hunger; the highways so infested with brigands that in those days they were avoided as those in the East had been in the time of Deborah, every one seeking rather the by-ways, which were also beset with obstacles of all kinds. St. Dominic of Calzada had done well to make roads and build bridges, but something was still wanting to his work, and that was the safety of those who travelled by them, and who were constantly liable to be attacked and despoiled by the infidels, to be taken captive, and condemned to slavery or death.
This state of things could not be allowed to continue. The Moors had their rabitos, or armed fakirs—a sort of warrior-monk—to protect their pilgrims and defend their frontiers; the religious and military orders of the Templars and Knights of St. John were covering themselves with glory in the East, and Spain could not fail to profit by these examples. The canons of St. Eloi had recently founded a chain of hospices, reaching from the frontiers of France to Compostella, specially destined for the reception of pilgrims, the most considerable being that of St. Mark, on the borders of Leon. These places of refuge, which were productive of the greatest good, were richly endowed by various princes; but even this was not enough: some brave noblemen of Castile resolved to devote their whole life to the defence and protection of the pilgrims. They placed their possessions in one common stock, and, joining the canons of St. Eloi, dwelt with them in a convent not far from Compostella. Being advised by Cardinal Jacinthus to go to Rome and obtain from the Pope the confirmation of their institute according to the rule of St. Augustine, they charged Don Pedro Fernandez de la Puente with this embassy, and obtained a bull, dated July 5, 1175, which regulated their manner of life, their duties, and their privileges, and created, under the title of Knights of St. James, a military order, of which Don Pedro was the first grand master. They wore a white tunic, with a red cross in the form of a sword on the breast. Their principal house was at first the hospice of St. Mark; but the castles and domains which were made over to them from time to time were so numerous that their riches became almost incalculable, and their influence and importance increased in proportion. They established themselves at Uclès, the better to carry on the warfare against the infidel, whose terror they had become. We soon find them a power in the state, the grand master taking rank with kings, and at times appearing to rule them. Even the simple knights had great privileges. It was not until the reign of Ferdinand that, owing to the skilful management of Isabella, the power and influence of the order began to decrease.
Our notice would be incomplete without a few words on the subject of the miracles which took place at the tomb or by the intercession of the apostle. The countless favors which have rendered many a chosen sanctuary justly illustrious will never be known; indeed, their absence would make the continual faith of the people—always asking and never receiving; always believing, and yet to be ever disappointed and deceived—not only inexplicable but impossible, whereas it was absolute and complete; but exaggeration, which, even in the world of ordinary facts, so frequently goes hand in hand with truth, plays still more freely with facts which are beyond and above the events of daily life, and, not being satisfied with the simple beauty of miraculous deliverances, it must fain make marvels still more marvellous—quit the domain of faith for that of myths and chimera. A MS. of the monastery of La Marcha is full of the recital of prodigies which a faith the most robust would nowadays find it difficult to accept; and Cæsar of Heisterbach tells us that a young man of Maestricht having been condemned and hung on a false accusation, commending himself to St. James, was preserved alive a whole month hanging from the gibbet, where his father found him safe and sound at the end of that time. Whereupon the people of Toulouse, jealous of the glory which the renown of this announcement gave to St. James of Compostella, attributed to their St. James a miracle exactly similar.
In numerous instances the accounts of the dead restored to life have nothing impossible or exaggerated about them, and often in their pathos and simplicity remind one of those mentioned in the Gospel narrative; for instance, a poor woman, by the intercession of St. James, obtained a son, who became not only her greatest comfort, but in time her only support. He fell ill and died. With a breaking heart the mother hastens to the apostle’s tomb, and in her agony of desolation mingles reproaches with her prayers and tears, asking the saint why he had won for her the blessing she had desired, only to let her lose it when her need was greatest, and herself a thousand times more sorrowful than before; and then, full of faith, entreated him to obtain from God the life of her son. Her prayer was granted, and, returning home, she found the youth restored. But of a very different character is the extraordinary legend related by Guibert, Abbot of Nogent, and which we quote as a curiosity. A certain pilgrim was on his way to Compostella to perform penance and obtain the pardon of a crime he had committed. On the road the enemy of mankind appeared to him under the form of St. James, and, telling him that his sin was far too great to be remitted by a simple pilgrimage, insisted that there was only one means of obtaining mercy, and that was by the sacrifice of his life; he must kill himself, and then all would be forgiven him. The pilgrim, who believed that he was listening to St. James in person and was bound to obey him, stabbed himself and died, a victim to the fraud of the demon. He appears before the tribunal of God, and there Satan claims him as his prey by a double title: first, because of the old crime, which had not been remitted; and, secondly, because of the new one of which he had been guilty in committing suicide. In vain the poor man pleads that he had acted in good faith and in the simplicity of his heart; he was in great danger of being condemned. But St. James hears what is going on and hastens to the scene. He does not intend that the evil one should take his form and name to deceive his pilgrims and then have all the profits, and pleads that the only way to do perfect justice in the affair is to put everything exactly as it was before Satan had so odiously meddled in the matter, and to send back the soul of the unfortunate man into his body again. This representation, being just, was acceded to, and the resuscitated pilgrim continued on his way to Compostella, where he confessed with great contrition and was absolved of all the sins of his past life.
We must, however, leave the realm of legend and return to historical facts. The anchoretic life was at an early period introduced into Europe from the East, and Spain appears to have been a land where hermits especially abounded. We often find them mentioned as coming on pilgrimage to Compostella, as St. Simeon and St. Theobald in the twelfth century, St. William somewhat later, and St. John the Hermit, who built near the cathedral a place of shelter for pilgrims, where he himself received them, rendering them all the offices of Christian hospitality.
Another William also came hither on pilgrimage, who was an illustrious personage, though not a hermit; this was the Count of Poitou and Duke of Aquitaine, whose past life had been anything but exemplary. In Normandy and elsewhere he had been guilty of grievous misdemeanors, for which he desired to do penance before his death; and, more than this, he did his utmost, by good and upright administration, to repair the evil he had done before. For this reason Hildebert, Bishop of Mans, was not well pleased at his setting out for Spain, and wrote to him as follows: “We are told, most noble count, that you have undertaken a pilgrimage in honor of Blessed James. We do not desire to deny the excellence of this, but whosoever is at the head of an administration is bound to obedience, nor can he free himself therefrom without deserting his post, unless, at least, he be called to one of greater usefulness. Wherefore, very dear son, it is an inexcusable fault in you to have preferred that which is not necessary before that which is—repose rather than labor, and, instead of duty, your own will.” But the great prelate would probably have been less severe could he have foreseen the holy death of Count William, who, on Good Friday, after having received the Blessed Sacrament, peacefully rendered up his soul to God before the altar of St. James.