That system was not always consistent or clear, but its main outlines
were as follows:--sanctuaries were of two kinds--general, as all
churches and churchyards; special, as St Martin's Le Grand and
Westminster. No doubt these last had originally also a religious
sanction. Such places were twice consecrate: Pope and King, the Canon
and the Common Law united in their favour. They protected felons, but
not those guilty of sacrilege or (some held) of treason. They were not
properly for debtors, whose reception was nevertheless justified by
an ingenious quibble. Imprisonment might endanger life, and therefore
(so the learned argued) the runaway debtor must be received. A man
took sanctuary thus--Having stricken (let us say) his fellow, he fled
to the cathedral and knocked (with how trembling a hand!) at the door
of the galilee. Over the north porch were two chambers where watchers
abode night and day. On the instant the door swung open, and had scarce
closed behind the fugitive when the galilee bell proclaimed to the
town that another life was safe from them that hunted. Then the prior
assigned him a gown of black cloth marked on the left shoulder with
the yellow cross of St Cuthbert, and therewith a narrow space where
he might lie secure of life, though ill at ease. So it was at Durham.
At Westminster the sanctuary man bore the cross keys for a badge, and
walked in doleful state before the abbot at procession times; and there
were, no doubt, countless variations. A phrase of the time reveals how
close the watch was now and again. Under Edward II. it was complained
that the sanctuary man might not remove so much as a step beyond
the precincts, _causâ superflui deponendi_, without being seized and
haled to prison. He was fed and lodged in some rough sort for forty
days, within which time he must confess his crime before the coroner
at the churchyard gate, and so constitute himself the king's felon.
Then he swore to abjure the realm. The coroner assigned him a port of
embarcation (chosen by himself), whither he must hasten with bare head,
carrying in his hand a cross, not departing, save in direst need, from
the King's highway. He might tarry on the shore but a single ebb and
flow of the tide, unless it were impossible to come by a ship, in which
case he must wade up to his knees in the sea every day. He was thus
protected for another forty days, when, if he could not find passage,
he returned whence he came, to try his luck elsewhere.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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