The Temple of London, in consequence of its garrison of knights, its monastic character, and its privilege of sanctuary, became a place in which great lords and even kings deposited their treasure. Queen Berengaria’s dower was placed in the hands of the Templars. Hubert de Burgh made the Temple his bank, and the knights refused to let the King’s officers remove the money and jewels he had given into their care. Kings made the place their residence; King John was there when his barons came to him demanding the “liberties and laws of King Edward.” Henry the Third, after a little quarrel with the Order, became reconciled to them, and lived for a while in the Temple; he made them the guardians of his treasure; he was present at the consecration of the Chancel of their Church in 1240. And he sent certain Castilian Ambassadors to the Temple as his guests. But by the beginning of the fourteenth century there is no doubt that the Templars had become unpopular. The King could not be pleased to think of manors and lordships which produced no revenues for the realm; the nobles grudged the immunities of the Order, and remembered that the lands of the Templars had once belonged to their ancestors before they were piously alienated; merchants could not with patience behold the annual transmission of vast sums of money out of the country; the Bishops lusted after the tithes, and regarded the Templars with suspicion and dislike as a united body over whom they had no authority. Finally, soldiers and military historians remembered that in the last days in Palestine the Order would own no subordination to King, Bishop, or Council; the knights stood apart, a compact body; so far, it was said, from supporting the Cross in the Holy Land, they did their best by their stubborn independence to pull it down. War has no rule more rigid and inflexible than the rule of obedience to one general. This rule the Templars had broken. That they fought with valour no one could deny, but they fought for themselves. Lastly, since there was no more fighting in Palestine, and no hope of any, why go on sending all their treasure out of the country? And what good were the Knights Templars any longer? There had been signs of coming storm after the fall of Acre in 1291. Edward the First seized the money intended to be sent to Cyprus on the ground that the purpose for which it had been sent in former years no longer existed. He gave it up, it is true, at the request of the Pope. Before this he had seized ten thousand pounds belonging to the Templars, and this money he did not return. Edward the Second also took away from the Temple fifty thousand pounds of silver, with a quantity of gold, jewels, and precious stones. That these acts of violence were committed without remonstrance or redress indicates that the power of the Templars had greatly diminished. These considerations—coupled with the intolerable pride of the knights and their splendour, which mocked the smaller gentry—were sufficient to account for the unpopularity of the Order and for the general acquiescence in its suppression. And with societies as well as with men when they become unpopular, sinister rumours began to be whispered, crimes began to be alleged, words began to be reported.
On 6th June 1306 Clement the Fifth addressed an invitation to the Grand Masters of the Templars and the Hospitallers inviting them both to a conference as to the recovery of the Holy Land. It is thought that it was his intention to overwhelm both Orders in one common destruction. Since, however, a great part of the property of the Templars was afterwards given to the Hospitallers, it is not probable that this was the Pope’s intention. Jacques de Moray, Grand Master of the Templars, accepted: the Grand Master of the Hospitallers declined to be present. De Moray arrived in France with sixty knights and a long train of sumpter mules bearing his treasure, estimated at 150,000 golden florins, and a vast quantity of silver. On September 14 the King, without waiting for the Pope’s consent, issued secret orders to all his seneschals instructing them to summon each a powerful force on the night of October 12; not to open the orders until that night, and then to execute them. On that night every Templar in France was arrested. The world heard with amazement that this great and valiant order was guilty of the most frightful crimes. These were arranged under five heads:
(1) That at their initiation they denied Christ and spat upon the Cross.
(2) That they worshipped an idol of some monstrous form.
(3) That they gave and received disgusting kisses at these receptions.
(4) That they omitted the words of consecration in the mass.
(5) That they practised unnatural vices.
There were other and minor charges. Among them, for instance, that the Grand Master claimed the power of granting absolution; that they wore a magical cord; that they were in secret league with the Mohammedans. How these charges arose it is impossible to prove; it was said that they came from one Squin de Florian, a man who had been imprisoned on account of his corrupt life, and according to others a certain Nosso, an apostate Templar, who between them devised and invented the whole.
