Codex Melitensis
by Alex Vella Gregory
Compostela. Campus Stellae. Field of Stars…
It is said that on a clear night in the year 813, a magnificent shower of stars and the sound of an angelic choir drew the hermit Pelayo to a forgotten tomb in a field in Galicia. Amazed, Pelayo reported the matter to Bishop Theodomar of Iria (d. 847) who decided to investigate further. The field was dug, and a sarcophagus was found, together with an inscription identifying it as the resting place of one of the apostles of Jesus, “Jacobus, son of Zebedee and Salome”. Theodoric and Alfonso “The Chaste”, King of Asturias, had St James declared patron of Spain. By 865, the area was already known as a site of peregrination, with early visitors reporting astounding miracles. It often happened that initial enthusiasm about a miracle-working shrine waned after a few years or decades. However, the cult of Santiago de Compostela (or “Saint James of Campus Stellae - Field of Stars”) grew from strength to strength. A number of walking routes to the shrine (collectively known as El Camino or, the “Way to Santiago”) were developed, winding their way between monasteries and frugal inns and hostels.
El Camino has seen a resurgence in popularity in recent decades as young (and not so young) people retrace pilgrimage routes of old. Maltese composer and writer Alexander Vella Gregory was one of those who set off on the journey, documenting his experience in a cycle of poems. He named the collection Codex Melitensis, a clear reference to the Codex Calixtinus or Compostellus, a collation of five volumes and two appendices kept at the Cathedral of Santiago compiled into one manuscript between 1138 and 1145, and containing a melange of legends, liturgical texts, a biography of Charlemagne and, in its fifth book, a sort of Medieval “Lonely Planet” or “Rough Guide” for pilgrims.
In an introduction to the cycle, Vella Gregory claims that he is no “poet”, but just a “singer”, presenting us with lyrics which should be “sung” not read. This “apology” is, I’d like to think, totally tongue-in-cheek, as I believe Vella Gregory knows well that poetry is not poetry at all, unless it contains the sound of music and the rhythm of the dance. It is true that we have, unfortunately, got used to poetry as a solitary, silent pursuit. It wasn’t so in the beginning, nor should it be. And if these poems or more like “songs”, that, for me, makes them more authentic. Vella Gregory’s verse is free and not bound by traditional strictures. But it also flows naturally, driven by an internal rhythm.
Vella Gregory uses the structure of a diary, with the journey split into days. But he also borrows from Christian rituals. Thus, the “songs”, if we are to call them that, are preceded by briefer “antiphons”, mimicking the singing of psalms at matins or vespers.
The pilgrimage to Compostela has its roots in the Medieval period. The Middle Ages have been much maligned since the Enlightenment, their God-centred emphasis seen as retrograde when compared to later eras whe Man became the measure for all things. This is reductive of the role played by religion in the Medieval period. Reading the manuscripts or listening to the songs of the era, one realises, that far from neglecting “human” needs, religion was shaped by and in turn guided the lives of believers, marking the passage of the seasons, key social events, and reflecting very personal needs, joys and desires. The world of God and Humankind is one. This worldview – which I would call “medieval” in the most positive of senses – is what I read (sing?) in Codex Melitensis. The poems are prayers of a journeying individual/seeker. They have a sacred subtext, as befits a cycle inspired by a religious pilgrimage. But they are not coldly philosophical. They are full of physical, earthy metaphors: there are references to the body, to the senses, to blood, to wine, to the landscape, to the pleasures of eating and drinking, the exhilaration of the journey and the tiredness which, at times, inevitably catches up with the voyager. There is also, obviously, the overarching image of “journey” as metaphor for life – more than a cliche, it is a literary trope, and a very powerful one at that.
Codex Melitensis is an intimate project, but it expresses thoughts and emotions which, I suspect, will resonate with many readers. I would recommend the collection also to those who might not be that used to poetry – it has a direct style, using metaphors which are evocative but which can be grasped and appreciated without undue head-scratching. Although according to Vella Gregory, this is “not poetry”, it certainly sings from the heart.
You can read more about the concept of pilgrimage, El Camino, the Codex Calixtinus and its connections with music, in an article I had written some years back.
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