I know, I know, but sometimes it’s hard not to like the Middle Ages.

I have just been reading some antiquarian materials about my home town in England. Back in medieval times, instead of importing criminals, as is the current American practice, the English used to export them:

A criminal who took sanctuary in a church had two alternatives open to him. He could either surrender himself to justice or he could “abjure the realm,” viz., take an oath to quit England for ever. The form of oath administered to an abjuring criminal was as follows.
“Thus here Sir Crouner that I, [Name], am a felon of our lorde the Kyng, and felony I have done like as I have confessid to you, etc. Wherefore I forswere the realme of Englond, and that I shall hye me to the porte of Newecastell uppon Tyne [or some other seaport] the which ye have geven me. And I shall not goo oute of the high weye, and yf I doo I will that I betakyn as a feloun of our saide lorde the Kyng, and att the saide porte I shall aske passage. And I shall not abyde there, but a Flode and a Ebbe if I niaye have passage. And if I may nott hafe pasage I shall every day goo in to the see unto my knees askyng passage. And if I may nott hafe hit in XL. dayes nexte I shall admitte me to the church agayne Os a feloun of our seide lorde the Kyng, soo helpe me God and All Seyntys, etc.”

In 1351 a criminal took sanctuary in the chapel of St. Leonard, a leprosy hospital just south of Northampton. While there, he was safe from arrest for a period of 40 days. After remaining in the church for seven days, the felon, whose name was Roger the Locksmith, sent for the Coroner and confessed his crime. This is what the Coroner’s Roll records about him:

ST. LEONARD’S HOSPITAL. It happened at Coton (Far Cotton) near Northampton on the feast of the Decollation of St. John Baptist, 25 Edward III. (29 August, 1351), that Roger le Loksmyth of Northampton fled to the church of St. Leonard in Coten. When examined by Wm. de Haldenby, the Coroner, as to why he had taken sanctuary in the church, and whether he was willing to surrender himself to the King’s peace (reddere se paci domini Regis), he confessed that he had stolen a horse worth 4/- at Yardley Hastings on Thursday after the feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross, 24 Edward III. (5 May, 1350). He abjured the realm and the port of Dover was assigned to him. Inquest was made by twelve jurors, and the four nearest townships, viz., Coten, Hardingstone, Wootton, Rothersthorpe and Horton, who say on their oath that the said Roger had one anvil (unum antfeld), with mallets (malleolos), iron files, and tongs of iron worth 10s. four dishes (discos) of pewter worth 12d. ; two sheets (linthlamina), and one piece of carpet worth 2s ; two hutches (hugches) worth 18d., for which Northampton will account. He has no lands or tenements.

This particular criminal, we then learn, was despatched to Dover and made his way thence to France. As a rule we hear no more of the abjuring malefactor, but in the case of Roger the Locksmith, we are fortunately able to follow him on his way. He took service under Henry Duke of Lancaster, and for nine years fought the King’s battles valiantly in France. At last, on November 30th, 1360, as a reward for his services, he received the King’s pardon, and was allowed, if he chose, to return once more to his native land.

Sure, I know about the lunacies and horrors of that time. (If you don’t, try this—or, for the National Enquirer side of things, this.) You can’t help thinking, though, that folk back in the 14th century had a few things pretty well worked out.