A Mediaeval Burglary by T.F. Tout — Read

The burglary, about which I have to speak to-night, I did not discover by ransacking the picturesque and humorous annals of mediaeval crime. I came across the details of this incident when seeking for something quite different, for it happened when I was attempting to investigate the technicalities of the history of the administrative department known as the king's Wardrobe. But so human a story did something to cheer up the weary paths of Dryasdust, and he hands it on to you in the hope that you will not find it absolutely wanting in instruction and amusement. Now my burglary was the burglary of the king's treasury, or more precisely, of the treasury of the king's wardrobe, within the precincts of the abbey at Westminster. The date of the event was 24April, 1303. More precisely, according to the chief burglar's own account, it was on the evening of that day that the burglar effected an entrance into the king's treasury, from which, he tells us he escaped, with as much booty as he could carry, on the morning of 26April. Who had committed the burglary is a problem which was not quite settled, even by the trials which followed the offence, though these trials resulted in the hanging of some half a dozen people at least. But after the hanging of the half-dozen, it was still maintained in some quarters that the burglary was committed by one robber only, though charges of complicity in his guilt were in common fame extended to something like a hundred individuals. And in this case common fame was not, I think, at fault.

I wish first of all to explain the meaning of the sentence, rather cryptic to the generality, in which I spoke of my burglary as that of the robbery of the treasury of the king's wardrobe within Westminster Abbey. For this purpose I must ask you to carry your minds back to the Westminster of the early years of the fourteenth century. Westminster was then what Kensington was in the eighteenth or early nineteenth century, a court suburb, aloof from the traffic and business of the great city of London. Now the twin centres of Westminster were the king's palace and the adjacent Benedictine Abbey. The rough plan, which I am permitted to print on the opposite page, will show the close relation of the two great groups of buildings. It was much closer in many ways than the relations between the Houses of Parliament, the modern representative of the old palace, and the present abbey buildings. If these latter largely remain, despite many destructive alterations in details, in their ancient site, we must remember that there was nothing like the broad modern road that separates the east end of the abbey from Westminster Hall and the House of Lords. A wall enclosed the royal precincts, and went westwards to within a few feet of the monks' infirmary and the end of St. Margaret's Church. The still existing access to the abbey on the east side of the south transept through the door by which you can still go into "poet's corner," having the chapter house on your left and HenryVII's chapel on your right, was the portal by which immediate access to the palace could be gained through a gate in this wall. The space between the abbey and the palace wall was occupied by the churchyard of St. Margaret's.