Then as now, when people mentioned the Templars, their minds often turned to the prospect of treasure. And it was only a short step from the idea of treasure to the sins of greed and avarice.
After their fall, the legend of ‘Templar greed’ and the riches that it generated became commonplace. Historians ever since have bought into this trope. As one 15th-century Dominican theologian commented, ‘they had fallen into many vices because of their great wealth.’
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Greedy and Avaricious?
Ironically, for an order founded on the principle of poverty, the idea that the Templars were fabulously rich goes back to its origins. This was not entirely irrational. They were given substantial privileges, tax breaks, and properties to fund the defence of the Holy Land.
The money for crusading had to come from somewhere. Other members of the clergy were inevitably disadvantaged by Templar privileges, and particularly from the tithes this diverted away from their own coffers. The properties and tax breaks were similarly unpopular to varying degrees. Everyone wanted to recover the Holy Land. But not everyone wanted to pay for it.
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It is not difficult to see how the legends grew. There were times when the two enticing but distinctly different ideas of ‘treasure-hoards’ and ‘crusading’ impinged on each other. English crusades were glamourised, and part of that glamour was attached to stories of the treasure the men took with them to the East—this was certainly the case, for instance, with the expeditions of 1227, 1240, and 1290. Beyond the expenses involved, however, which were naturally considerable, almost all these tales of “Templar treasure” were pure fantasy.
Part of the criticism focused on what the order did (or rather did not do) with their supposed riches—why, it was asked, did the order not do more in terms of charitable giving or offering hospitality to those in need?
The alleged lack of charitable giving or hospitality was routinely denied by the Templar brothers, however. Most pointed out that ten per cent of the bread baked in a Templar house was allocated for charity and that further gifts of meat, clothing, and money were also made to the poor. Hospitality was not a core obligation of the order, unlike their rival order, the Hospitallers—but it was often said during the Templar trials that it was freely given nonetheless.
And, far from hoarding ‘secret treasure,’ the property owned by the British Templars was very carefully documented—partly by the order itself in records such as the ‘Inquest’ of 1185 but also, as the Templars were closed down, by third parties. The royal keepers of the confiscated lands produced detailed annual accounts, and any expenses they incurred were recorded in the royal Pipe Rolls. An initial inventory of the British Templars’ assets was also made by royal officials in January 1308, when the brothers were first arrested. Yet another inventory was ordered to be made a year later, on 4 March 1309. Any satanic idols or secret treasures were not going to remain secret for long.
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Temple Church in London. Image by It’s No Game / Wikimedia Commons
But the accounts show that the personal possessions of the Templars were, despite the lurid accusations of treasure-hoarding levelled at them, surprisingly simple.
At the British order’s headquarters in London, we find that the king’s men seized only a few sets of clothes and wall coverings; two crossbows and a few swords; two books and some sundry iron forks and firestands. Of precious metals, there were none, with the poignant exception of the property of one brother, Richard of Herdwick, who, rather churlishly under the circumstances, had his two silver cups and twelve silver spoons confiscated.
Much the same situation was repeated across Britain, doubtless to the disappointment of the bailiffs. At the Templar house of Kilcloggan in County Wexford, for instance, there were a few items of furniture and some stored food. The church was found to be well equipped, as one might expect, with vestments and some silver plate. But there were no great riches—merely a normal religious establishment. Any hidden treasure remained just that—hidden.
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Modern conspiracies often associate the Templars with treasure and satanic worship—and there were, indeed, some valuables to be found within their preceptories. But these were ‘valuables’ of a kind which generally have far less obvious appeal to modern audiences. On the contrary, they were largely pious items, in direct contradiction of the other charges of heresy.
At the chapel of the preceptory of Bisham in Berkshire, for instance, there were many books, some valuable. Doubtless, the brothers were very proud of these. But nothing whatsoever to suggest any idolatry. The less-than-exciting contents of their small library included a large two-volume book of saints’ legends and stories, a martyrology, a psalter, four copies of the Gospels, and a book with the office of the Blessed Mary. This deeply conservative and devout book collection was supplemented by the appropriate religious objects—crosses, relics, candlestick holders, and so on.
These were the contents of a prosperous and decidedly orthodox religious community, with no evidence of the garish totems of a devil-worshipping cult. There was no sign of anything more racy or controversial, either in terms of value or of doctrine. The inquisitors and money men (like modern conspiracists) were disappointed at the lack of rich pickings.
A local Scottish legend says that the Knights Templar who are traditionally said to have held land in the area, buried treasure in the Deil’s Wood (Castlehill Plantation) then spread tales of ghosts and ghouls inhabiting the spot to put off local people from digging-up the treasure. The plan appears not to have worked as the laird’s son tried to dig-up the treasure. Photo: Kenneth Mallard / Deil’s Wood / CC BY-SA 2.0
Hidden Treasure Chests?
Even the New Temple headquarters were a major disappointment for the bailiffs. True, the quality of the relics to be found there was impressive; however, it was difficult to put a monetary value on such items. Some of the relics strained credulity, even amongst those who were motivated to find items of value. As befitted a military order, the chapel had, in pride of place, the sword with which, allegedly, Henry II’s knights had killed Thomas Becket. Not all were entirely convinced, however, and the provenance of the relic was not being oversold—the sword was merely described as being Becket’s murder weapon, ‘as it is said.’ Similarly, and perhaps suspiciously to the more cynical, there were no less than two crucifixes which were said to contain the wood on which Jesus Christ was crucified.
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There were certainly a number of valuables held in the vestry, but nothing out of the ordinary for the provincial headquarters of a major religious order—rich furnishings, of course, and beautiful fabrics, some reliquaries, ivory, and high-quality silverwork. But again, little beyond that which might be described as ‘rich-pious.’
Was there any hidden treasure? The inventories of the British Templars’ goods show no hoards of money or jewels, no idols, nothing really out of the ordinary. A total of 53 silver spoons were mentioned in the inventories, six of which were at the convalescent home in Denney. This amounted to one spoon for every two Templars arrested—hardly a treasure trove.
Despite a complete lack of evidence, some have argued that this merely indicates that the brothers had time to hide their treasures and other secret goods before the king’s men arrested them. Significantly, however, in France, where the order was taken completely by surprise, similarly, no treasure was found.
Dr Steve Tibble is a graduate of Jesus College, Cambridge and London University. He is an Honorary Research Associate at Royal Holloway College, University of London. Steve is a leading authority on warfare and violence in the crusading era.
By Steve Tibble
Then as now, when people mentioned the Templars, their minds often turned to the prospect of treasure. And it was only a short step from the idea of treasure to the sins of greed and avarice.
After their fall, the legend of ‘Templar greed’ and the riches that it generated became commonplace. Historians ever since have bought into this trope. As one 15th-century Dominican theologian commented, ‘they had fallen into many vices because of their great wealth.’
Greedy and Avaricious?
Ironically, for an order founded on the principle of poverty, the idea that the Templars were fabulously rich goes back to its origins. This was not entirely irrational. They were given substantial privileges, tax breaks, and properties to fund the defence of the Holy Land.
The money for crusading had to come from somewhere. Other members of the clergy were inevitably disadvantaged by Templar privileges, and particularly from the tithes this diverted away from their own coffers. The properties and tax breaks were similarly unpopular to varying degrees. Everyone wanted to recover the Holy Land. But not everyone wanted to pay for it.
It is not difficult to see how the legends grew. There were times when the two enticing but distinctly different ideas of ‘treasure-hoards’ and ‘crusading’ impinged on each other. English crusades were glamourised, and part of that glamour was attached to stories of the treasure the men took with them to the East—this was certainly the case, for instance, with the expeditions of 1227, 1240, and 1290. Beyond the expenses involved, however, which were naturally considerable, almost all these tales of “Templar treasure” were pure fantasy.
Part of the criticism focused on what the order did (or rather did not do) with their supposed riches—why, it was asked, did the order not do more in terms of charitable giving or offering hospitality to those in need?
The alleged lack of charitable giving or hospitality was routinely denied by the Templar brothers, however. Most pointed out that ten per cent of the bread baked in a Templar house was allocated for charity and that further gifts of meat, clothing, and money were also made to the poor. Hospitality was not a core obligation of the order, unlike their rival order, the Hospitallers—but it was often said during the Templar trials that it was freely given nonetheless.
And, far from hoarding ‘secret treasure,’ the property owned by the British Templars was very carefully documented—partly by the order itself in records such as the ‘Inquest’ of 1185 but also, as the Templars were closed down, by third parties. The royal keepers of the confiscated lands produced detailed annual accounts, and any expenses they incurred were recorded in the royal Pipe Rolls. An initial inventory of the British Templars’ assets was also made by royal officials in January 1308, when the brothers were first arrested. Yet another inventory was ordered to be made a year later, on 4 March 1309. Any satanic idols or secret treasures were not going to remain secret for long.
But the accounts show that the personal possessions of the Templars were, despite the lurid accusations of treasure-hoarding levelled at them, surprisingly simple.
At the British order’s headquarters in London, we find that the king’s men seized only a few sets of clothes and wall coverings; two crossbows and a few swords; two books and some sundry iron forks and firestands. Of precious metals, there were none, with the poignant exception of the property of one brother, Richard of Herdwick, who, rather churlishly under the circumstances, had his two silver cups and twelve silver spoons confiscated.
Much the same situation was repeated across Britain, doubtless to the disappointment of the bailiffs. At the Templar house of Kilcloggan in County Wexford, for instance, there were a few items of furniture and some stored food. The church was found to be well equipped, as one might expect, with vestments and some silver plate. But there were no great riches—merely a normal religious establishment. Any hidden treasure remained just that—hidden.
Modern conspiracies often associate the Templars with treasure and satanic worship—and there were, indeed, some valuables to be found within their preceptories. But these were ‘valuables’ of a kind which generally have far less obvious appeal to modern audiences. On the contrary, they were largely pious items, in direct contradiction of the other charges of heresy.
At the chapel of the preceptory of Bisham in Berkshire, for instance, there were many books, some valuable. Doubtless, the brothers were very proud of these. But nothing whatsoever to suggest any idolatry. The less-than-exciting contents of their small library included a large two-volume book of saints’ legends and stories, a martyrology, a psalter, four copies of the Gospels, and a book with the office of the Blessed Mary. This deeply conservative and devout book collection was supplemented by the appropriate religious objects—crosses, relics, candlestick holders, and so on.
These were the contents of a prosperous and decidedly orthodox religious community, with no evidence of the garish totems of a devil-worshipping cult. There was no sign of anything more racy or controversial, either in terms of value or of doctrine. The inquisitors and money men (like modern conspiracists) were disappointed at the lack of rich pickings.
Hidden Treasure Chests?
Even the New Temple headquarters were a major disappointment for the bailiffs. True, the quality of the relics to be found there was impressive; however, it was difficult to put a monetary value on such items. Some of the relics strained credulity, even amongst those who were motivated to find items of value. As befitted a military order, the chapel had, in pride of place, the sword with which, allegedly, Henry II’s knights had killed Thomas Becket. Not all were entirely convinced, however, and the provenance of the relic was not being oversold—the sword was merely described as being Becket’s murder weapon, ‘as it is said.’ Similarly, and perhaps suspiciously to the more cynical, there were no less than two crucifixes which were said to contain the wood on which Jesus Christ was crucified.
There were certainly a number of valuables held in the vestry, but nothing out of the ordinary for the provincial headquarters of a major religious order—rich furnishings, of course, and beautiful fabrics, some reliquaries, ivory, and high-quality silverwork. But again, little beyond that which might be described as ‘rich-pious.’
Was there any hidden treasure? The inventories of the British Templars’ goods show no hoards of money or jewels, no idols, nothing really out of the ordinary. A total of 53 silver spoons were mentioned in the inventories, six of which were at the convalescent home in Denney. This amounted to one spoon for every two Templars arrested—hardly a treasure trove.
Despite a complete lack of evidence, some have argued that this merely indicates that the brothers had time to hide their treasures and other secret goods before the king’s men arrested them. Significantly, however, in France, where the order was taken completely by surprise, similarly, no treasure was found.
The reason was simple—there was none.
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Dr Steve Tibble is a graduate of Jesus College, Cambridge and London University. He is an Honorary Research Associate at Royal Holloway College, University of London. Steve is a leading authority on warfare and violence in the crusading era.
You can check out Steve’s other books: Crusader Criminals, The Crusader Armies and The Crusader Strategy
Top Image: Photo by Theodore Scott / Wikimedia Commons
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