Margery Kempe
&
The Fire of Love
Pilgrimages to Santiago and Wilsnack
Kempe made her second overseas pilgrimage in 1417 and 1418, two years after her expedition to the Holy Land and Rome. Her new destination was Santiago de Compostela in Spain, where she stayed for a fortnight and was richly blessed in body and spirit.
In 2020 her week-long treks between her Spanish port and Santiago were commemorated with this statue erected at Sigueiro, where she stopped for the night. (Photo courtesy Kenneth McIntosh.)
​Kempe was in her late fifties when she made her third and final overseas pilgrimage. It was incidental to a stay in Danzig with her late son’s widow, who lived in the city. At the start of her journey home she sought the protective companionship of a man who was making a pilgrimage to a place called Bad Wilsnack, which was on the way to Calais, where Kempe would take ship for England.
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Armed unrest in the Wilsnack area filled Kempe with terror. Remembering the marriage to the Godhead she supposedly contracted in Rome, she now imagines his husbandly words of reassurance: You know perfectly well that out of love for a good-looking, handsome husband a woman will go where he wants her to. There is no one as lovely, as attractive or as good as me and if you love me you won’t shrink from going wherever I want to take you. I brought you here and I shall see you safely back to England – just trust me.
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By the time they reached Wilsnack Kempe, besides being lame from old age, was exhausted, too, the man having quickened his pace to try and shake her off (as others did later).
Because I was ill, a cart was made ready and in penitence and great discomfort I was borne to the Holy Blood of Wilsnack – precious blood which had miraculously oozed from the blessed sacrament of the altar.
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Kempe describes her arduous journey to Calais in detail, including the flea infestation she suffered near to Aachen: Out in the country, my companions sometimes removed their clothes and sat there naked, picking fleas off each other… I felt that it was beneath me to do the same, but mixing with them had given me a share of the vermin, too, and they bit and stung me horribly morning, noon and night.
As for the crossing to Dover, Kempe describes with smug satisfaction the sea-sickness suffered by a woman who’d snubbed her on the way to Calais. While the others were throwing up and spewing and making plenty of noise and mess I surprised them all by staying well. That woman suffered the worst of all so she was the one I did most to help and reassure. I acted out of kindness and love of our Lord – and for no other reason.
I welcome contact from fellow Kempe scholars and enthusiasts.