The ideal pilgrim was supposed to wear a rough gray cloak and a round felt hat, to sling a scrip, or bag, for bread, over his shoulder, to carry a long staff with a water bottle hanging from it, and to set out on foot, begging his bread by the way; but there were as many kinds of pilgrims as of folk, and as time passed, fewer and fewer of them troubled themselves to wear the gray cloak or even to beg their bread if they could afford to buy it. In Chaucer's Canterbury Tales  the author describes a large company of pilgrims, but not one of them carried even scrip or staff. A knight, who was one of their number, had just returned from a voyage, and he started just as he was, in a fustian gipon, stained by his coat of mail. His son, a merry young squire, wore a sort of short gown with long, wide sleeves. A doctor was gorgeous in a robe of bright blue and red lined with silk. A woman from the town of Bath wore a sort of riding mantle fastened about her waist, and a hat "as broad as is a buckler or a shield."

Good folk who were entirely sincere in wishing to make a pilgrimage in order to beg the aid of some kindly saint saw no harm in making their journey agreeable. A company of pilgrims often hired a few singers and bagpipe players to go with them and enliven the way. In the Canterbury Tales, the worthy landlord says, "There is neither comfort nor pleasure in riding along as silent as a stone"; and he suggests that each one of the travelers shall tell two stories going to Canterbury, and two returning. Then, when they have come back to the inn, he who has told the best tale shall have a supper at the expense of the others. These people had no peas in their shoes, or if they had, they did not mind, for they ambled along comfortably on horseback; and when night had come, they drew rein at the Tabard Inn, where they were sure of good wine and the best of food.

When pilgrims had come to their journey's end, some went straight to their prayers; others wandered about the church curiously. At Canterbury there was much to see. Among other treasures there was the point of the sword that had been thrust into the brain of the martyr Thomas à Becket, and there was his very skull, all covered with silver save the forehead. The devout kissed the sacred rust of the sword and pressed their lips reverently to the skull. They gazed upon the hair shirt which the archbishop had worn and the scourge with which he had so often beaten himself for his sins. There were bones of lesser saints, there were silken vestments stiff with elaborate embroidery, and there were superb jewels and gold and silver ornaments for the shrine that had been presented by earnest worshipers. It is said that at the principal altar in the Canterbury cathedral only a few pence were left in the course of a whole year; but that at the shrine of Thomas à Becket gifts were made in the same time amounting to nearly one thousand pounds, a sum that would buy much more then than it will to-day.

One of the greatest treasures of the cathedral at Canterbury was a flask of blood, said to be that of à Becket. It was believed that if a sick person was permitted to taste a cup of water with which a drop of this blood had been mixed, he would be cured of whatever disease he might have. It is no wonder that thousands flocked to Canterbury. Sometimes one hundred thousand were in the place at the same time. An enterprising young man set to work to make ampullæ, or tiny flasks of lead and pewter, in which pilgrims might carry home a few drops of the wonder-working water to heal any of their friends who were suffering. These ampullæ had little ears pierced with holes for cords. They were sometimes hung about the neck and sometimes sewn on the cap or cloak or on the tunic over the heart. Other souvenirs could be purchased. One was a silver or pewter head of Saint Thomas. Little bells were also for sale, called Canterbury bells, a name that has been given to a blue bell-flower of Canterbury which grows commonly in our gardens.

Every shrine had its special token. Pilgrims who had been to Rome might wear badges representing two keys crossed, or a veronica, that is, a representation of the face of Christ on a handkerchief; those who had visited Santiago da Campostella in Spain wore scallop shells in honor of a miracle said to have been wrought on the seashore by the body of Saint James. Sir Walter Raleigh wrote:—

The scallop shells and other badges were highly valued by their owners as proofs that they had really made the various pilgrimages. Of course a large amount of money was gained by their sale, and the right to manufacture them was very valuable. This privilege was given to certain families or to a bishop or to some convent.

The people who went on pilgrimage were as unlike as people of to-day, and while many went with most honest devotion and often with loss and trouble to themselves, others went because they enjoyed new scenes and the adventures of the way. Chaucer laughs slyly at these last and says that when April has come, when the gentle breezes blow, when twigs are green and little birds sing through the night, then it is that folk long to go on pilgrimage. They could hardly be blamed, for such a pilgrimage as that to Canterbury was certainly a pleasant little excursion. The road from London was known as the "Pilgrim's Road." At Walsingham there was a monastery whose chapel contained a famous statue of the Virgin Mary, and the road thither was called the "Palmer's Way," and the "Walsingham Green Way." A common name in England for the Milky Way was the "Walsingham Way."

On the Continent there was a shrine in almost every province. The favorite one in France was on the wild, jagged rock of Mont Saint Michel in Normandy. This was sacred to the archangel Michael. At Kiev in Russia rested the bones of many martyrs, and every year thousands came to gaze reverently upon them and offer up fervent prayers. Trèves in Prussia rejoiced in the possession of a garment said to be the seamless coat worn by the Saviour. Throngs of people made long journeys to visit these places, and it was a common saying that the city which contained a valuable relic consisted mainly of churches and inns.

There were sham pilgrims as well as real ones. It was regarded as a worthy act to aid a pilgrim by giving him food and lodging, and some of the gilds, or associations of tradesmen, maintained lodging-houses on purpose for poor pilgrims. This was an accommodation, but not entirely a charity; for the tradesmen expected to be well paid in the benefit that they would receive from the prayers of their guests. People of a wandering turn of mind or those who were too lazy to work for their bread found the liberality shown to pilgrims a vast convenience. They had only to choose a way leading to some popular shrine, and then they could roam on, comfortably certain of bed and board without money or labor. It was easy for one who was weary of his work or his home village to become a sort of perpetual pilgrim; that is, it was easy until so many had learned the trick that laws were made against this vagrancy, and unless a person could prove that he was a real pilgrim, he was in danger of being shut up in prison as a real vagabond.