DINBURGA

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE,"
"CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 461.

A FEW WEEKS FROM HOME.
THE NORE AND THEREABOUTS.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1840.

To continue these rambling sketches of home travelthe reader may be reminded that we stopped in our journey through Hampshire, to spend a quiet Sunday amidst the interesting antiquities of Winchester and St Cross. Departing from this scene of William of Wykeham's glories, and now one of the least altered of Old England's oldest cities-leaving the green and soft luxuriance of the vale of the Itchin, we proceed on our way by rail to London, and in little more than two hours we are turned out from the mixed train to be mixed among the busy crowds of the metropolis. Some writers-my Lady Morgan for one, if we recollect rightly-have a very convenient knack of vaulting at a bound over an interval of time in their narratives, by giving a dashing line of stars-the said stars being all that the reader gets for some darkly mysterious part of the story which it would puzzle the author to explain. On the present occasion it would be remarkably easy to follow this excellent example, but as plain dealing is more to our taste, we shall just say, in a few words, that we pass over an interval of three months, and are again, during the fortnight or three weeks of "farewell summer," once more upon our rambles from home. In short, we are again in London, ready for all sorts of inquiries and excursions. I had gone, I do not know how often, up and down the Thames. Sheerness, and Tilbury Fort, and Purfleet, and Gravesend, and the old cocked hats and wooden legs which daily air themselves on the terrace at Greenwich, were all perfectly familiar to me. But somehow or other I had never got round the Nore, in the direction of Margate; and so now I resolved to pay a brief visit to a few places in this quarter of the Kentish coast.

The opportunities for making such an excursion are now exceedingly plentiful. In the days of old, the only means of transit consisted of the Margate hoys, a class of small sloops which carried you in a couple of days, wind and weather permitting, to the place of your destination; but now, what a change!-smart steamers dash off daily from London Bridge, and in five or six hours disload their hundreds of gaily-dressed passengers on the jetties of Herne Bay and Margate. In one of the most active of these well-managed boats, the Red Rover, we one morning placed ourselves; and in due time were brought abreast of the Isle of Sheppy and adjacent parts in the mainland of Kent. This part of the coast, it is necessary to explain, forms the great airing ground of the good folk of the metropolis. During "the season" as many as two or three thousand persons are daily landed and carried back to town. But Saturday, in particular, forms the great day for these excursions; the toiled and stupefied tradesman, who has been stewed up for a week amidst the streets and lanes of the city, on that day gets off to pay his accustomed visit to his wife and family to enjoy a few hours' fresh air on the beach on Sunday-and to return again on Monday to his desk and dingy counting-house.

From all I could learn, there are two kinds of summer recreation in these places of resort-one consisting of actual rustication and airing at Herne Bay or Ramsgate, and another of imaginary rustication and airing among the fashionable lounges and tea-gardens of Margate. Another thing may be mentioned; the resort to either of these places is almost exclusively of persons east of Charing Cross-that is to say, citizens with their wives and families, or young ladies and gentlemen of the same class, who wish to spend money any way, but "genteely," if possible; and what

half so genteel as spending it for a few weeks on the
amusements of Margate?

PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

character of the coast. About three miles to the eastward, on the verge of the sea, stand those reWith these preliminary explanations, we now land, markable objects of antiquity, and land-marks, the in the first place, on that part of the coast where the towers of the church of Reculver. To this spot real and more sober-minded rusticators resort. Herne I hastened to pay a visit. In front is the wide Bay, as this place has been called, is quite of modern expanse of the German Ocean, studded here and date; and its name, as may be inferred, is derived from there with vessels making for the mouth of the the ancient village of Herne, which is situated about Thames from the Downs or continental ports; on our a mile inland, on the high road to Canterbury.* The left is the Isle of Sheppy, darkly pictured on the coast at this spot is eminently suited for a watering-horizon, and on the right that flat expanse of prairie place. Unlike the greater part of the adjacent dis- or meadow land, which occupies the filled-up channel trict, the shore has a fine slope, in the form of a sandy between the mainland and Thanet, whose higher and pebbly beach, to the water, and may at all times be grounds close up the scene. Nowhere, on the reached from steamers with perfect comfort, by means coast of Great Britain, have such extensive changes of a beautiful and substantial jetty of three quarters been effected by the sea and other causes, on the of a mile in length. The country, backwards, all the dimensions and configuration of the land. On a proway to Canterbury, is of a soft undulating character, minent knoll, now carried completely away by the well plenished with woods and copses, and dotted over waves of the ocean, once stood the castle of Raculfwith old-fashioned hamlets and trimly thatched farm-cester, an early station of the Romans, and, latterly, buildings and cottages. The walks, therefore, whether along the grassy downs which overhang the sea, or into the rural scenery beyond, seem well adapted for the summer solacement of the overworn inhabitants of the city. Some ten or twelve years ago, Herne Bay, by the activity of a few rash speculators, became "all the rage," and buildings and streets, on a superlatively grand scale, sprung up in all directions. From one cause or other, however, the tide of popularity did not last a sufficient length of time, and the building lots being retained at enormous prices, the projected town stuck after it had been begun, and in the present day we find it composed of many partially finished edifices, and rows of streets standing like so many loopholed and ragged ruins. Nevertheless, the place, as Brown would have said, has capabilities calculated to carry it over this great initiatory misfortune, and these are leading gradually to its settlement and improvement.

Along the shore there is a remarkably neat terrace-
like walk for promenaders. Adjacent are bathing-
houses, numerous dwellings for visiters, and two hotels
of large dimensions in full operation; during my
short stay, a very handsome church was consecrated
by the archbishop for the use of the inhabitants,
regular and transient. It would be
very inexcusable
to pass over in this notice, however slight it be, the
good deeds done to the town by a benevolent and
wealthy patroness, Mrs Thwaites, relict of an opulent
merchant in the city, and who devotes no small share
of her property to charitable and public purposes.
Unlike the generality of mankind, who only leave
wealth to their fellow-creatures when they can no
longer make use of it themselves, this well-disposed
lady, having taken a fancy to Herne Bay, has largely
assisted in the support of free schools for the place,
and lent her charitable aid to the poor of the neigh-
bourhood. She likewise, a few years ago, erected, at
a considerable expense, a tall and handsome clock-
tower on the sea-promenade, which may be seen at a
great distance. Although totally unacquainted with
this lady, there seems such a degree of rationality in
the disposal of her superabundant wealth, that I feel
much pleasure in holding up her conduct to imitation.
Herne Bay forms a good starting-point for those
who wish to explore the antiquities and geological

*Herne was the first cure of the pious Ridley, afterwards
bishop of Rochester and London; and here he resided for several
years, discharging the duties of his pastoral office with great
zeal.-Beauties of England and Wales, vol. viii. Herne church, to
which I paid a visit, contains a number of objects as old as the
fifteenth century; among others, is a monumental brass figure
over the tomb of Lady Phelip, wife of Matthew Phelip, sometime
Lord Mayor of London; she died in 1470, and is represented in
the dress of the times.

a seat of the Anglo-Saxon king, Ethelbert. During this latter period, a church of great extent was built adjoining the castle; and it is the towers of this edifice, popularly called the Reculvers, which now stand as the most prominent objects on the whole line of coast. On attaining the spot, we find that the sea has washed away at least a mile of the land, leaving for several miles a precipitous cliff, which is daily lessening in bulk. In dread of these rapid encroachments, the church has been many years abandoned, and is now an open desolated ruin-the only complete portion remaining being the two towers, which are preserved as land-marks for mariners: The sea has not, as is generally reported, reached the building, but it has carried away a half of the burying-ground around it, and numerous remains of mortality project from the face of the cliff, and are scattered along the beach. To prevent, if possible, farther inroads, the Trinity House has caused the erection of a paved bulwark for a considerable distance along the shore; and it is evident, that unless some precautionary measures of this kind be speedily adopted elsewhere, a very considerable loss of land must ensue. The extraordinary carelessness hienerto shown on this point, is far from creditable. At present, as we are told by Mr Lyell, the loss of land, by the washing away of the clayey and chalky cliffs, is at least two feet per annum; and it is calculated that the whole island of Sheppy, now measuring six miles in length by four in breadth, will be annihilated in half a century.

It is interesting, in a geological point of view, to remark, that while the precipitous and some other parts of the coast have been diminishing annually, land has in one spot been accumulating with equal rapidity. Casting our eye south-eastwards from the Reculvers, as I have said, we observe a flat tract of rich meadow land, as like the polders of Holland as any thing in this country. This tract, which is embellished with trees, fences, and farm-offices, was once an arm of the sea, which stretched from Sandwich to near the Reculvers, and through this navigable channel the Roman fleets used to sail on their way to and from the Thames. About the time of the Norman Conquest, the Channel became impassable, from the accumulation of earthy matter; and in the fifteenth century it was crossed by a bridge. Since that period, all vestige of water course has disappeared, if we except the wet ditches which here and there intersect the enclosed fields. It will be understood, therefore, that Thanet is no longer an island, but a portion of the mainland of Kent, and forms a bold piece of country, with the North Foreland, Margate, and Ramsgate, on its exterior and sea-washed extremity.

Having sufficiently explored the environs of Herne

Bay and the Reculvers, the place to which we next proceeded was Margate, a steamer carrying us thither in rather less than an hour. I am sorry to say that I was disappointed with Margate. Let the reader conceive the idea of a bold chalky line of cliffs, closely overhanging the sea, and in a notch, at a part lower than the rest, a cluster of red brick houses, spreading in irregular or plain lines into the country, with two or three church spires, and tall barrack-looking buildings, and he has a tolerable idea of the town. There is no beach for walking upon, and the accommodation for bathing in the sea is very limited. The town is approached by a long wooden jetty; but it is so low, that the sea at high tides washes over it. Adjoining is a well-built harbour, which, however, is left dry at low water. A more unfavourable spot for a sca-port or watering-place cannot well be imagined. The streets, straggling upward from the harbour, are as narrow as the lanes of the city; and how families should come hither for fresh air, is beyond my comprehension, because they must be obliged to live in houses nearly as confined as those they have left. Margate, however, as already hinted, derives its chief support from being a favourite scene of fashionable racket and amusement during the dull autumnal season in town. In walking through the narrow streets, you observe bazaars, which form lounging places for the idle; and in each is seen a gambling or raffling table for those who wish to try their luck. There are likewise several houses which offer the choice of hot bathing and music; and besides these means of killing time, there are public concerts and dances, at which the height of city splendour is exhibited. The best point in the Margate arrangements are the numerous respectable boarding-houses, where, on moderate terms, you may reside for a short time in a very agreeable manner. At these houses, parties of pleasure are made up for the day, the expense for cars and refreshments during the excursion being defrayed by general contribution. It is a recognised point of etiquette among the persons who thus become acquainted for the time being, that they are not in any respect supposed to know each other when they return to town; a watering-place acquaintance being like that contracted in a stage-coach, which terminates at the end of the journey.

From Margate, a variety of short trips may be made to places of local importance. Within a short distance, in an easterly direction, is the retired watering-place called Broadstairs (a corruption, by the way, of Bradstow), which is resorted to much more

At this of the world. In the late case which occurred in Pofew feet of the walls of the dwellings. extreme south-eastern corner of Thanet, we are pre- land, a young woman came forward and gave evidence sented with a most extensive prospect seawards. that she had been seized by her master, a Hebrew, The eye in a clear day commands the outline of the and had been confined to a room in his house, where sand-hills and cliffs on the French coast from about she had been bled several times against her will, to Calais to Dunkirk, a distance cf at least thirty miles, yield the leaven alluded to. The story was readily the sparkling interval of ocean being dotted over with believed by the credulous public, with whose prepos white sails, and streaked with lazy currents of blue sessions it tallied only too strongly; and several Jews smoke issuing from the steamers which are almost were imprisoned and misused for the imputed crime. always seen plying in the Downs. More immediately But the young woman, seized with remorse, soon afterat hand, on the right, we have a full view of the low wards retracted her accusation, and admitted that she silted-up shore on which are situated the ancient had been prevailed upon to make the statement by cinque-ports of Sandwich and Deal, also the groves her lover, a young man at enmity with some of the amidst which Walmar, the seat of the Duke of Wel-Jews, and who had invented the story for her. The lington, reposes, and beyond them the cliffy knolls only foundation for the charge lay in circumstances which overhang the town and port of Dover. We most honourable to her master. The girl had been ill, have here, indeed, a prospect of the spot on which, and had been bled in the usual way by the family fifty-five years before the Christian era, Julius Cæsar surgeon, whom the master had called in from the arrived with his war galleys and conquered the abori- most humane motives, besides lavishing other kindly ginal inhabitants of our island; and here, also, in sub- attentions upon his ungrateful servant. sequent times, was the landing place of Saxons and could not stand against such disclosures, and the Jews Danes who came to the country on a similar errand. were acquitted. It was likewise somewhere within this territory, which may well be defined as the portal of England, that St Augustine arrived about thirteen hundred years since, and spread a knowledge of that Christianity which now illuminates the whole of Britain.

But I must stop, for the present, this narrative of past events and modern appearances, and conclude with an agreeable piece of information to all future tourists to the spot, that Pegwell Bay has the happiness to possess an inn on the very brink of the precipice, where you may at once study the progress of disintegration from the eternal washing of the waves beneath, and enjoy the comforts of a lunch on shrimps and bread and butter-such being the repast for which Pegwell Bay has for ages been highly, and, I have every reason to believe, justly celebrated.

THE ANTI-HEBREW EPIDEMIC. AMONG the moral epidemics of Christian society-at least of Christian society in a low state of civilisation -may be ranked a violent and suspicious dislike of the Jews. This feeling has broken out at various times, and in many different countries, since the commencement of our era, and has raged destructively for a season, like the plague, cholera, or any other phy

The case

So lately as the end of the sixteenth century, the popular idea of a Jew in England included every imaginable criminality. Shakspeare, in his Shylock, has in some measure pandered to this prejudice; but his Jew is spotless innocence compared to the Barabas, or Jew of Malta, depicted by his immediate predecessor Marlow:

"As for myself, I walk abroad a-nights,

And kill sick people groaning under walls:
Sometimes I go about and poison wells;
And now and then, to cherish Christian thieves,
I am content to lose some of my crowns,
That I may, walking in my gallery,
See 'm go pinioned along by my door.
Being young, I studied physic, and began
To practise first upon the Italian:

There I enriched the priests with burials,
And always kept the sexton's arms in use
With digging graves, and wringing dead men' tinell
And, after that, was I an engineer,

And in the wars 'twixt France and Germany,

Under pretence of serving Charles V.,

Slew friend and enemy with my stratagems.

Then, after that, was I an usurer,

And with extorting, cozening, forfeiting,
And tricks belonging unto brokery,

I filled the jail with bankrupts in a year,
And with young orphans planted hospitals,
And every moon made some or other mad-
And now and then one hang himself for grief,
Pinning upon his breast a long great scroll,
How I with interest had tormented him."

for tranquillity and sea air than Margate. Taking sical disorder to which mankind are liable. The regarded, as if it were merely the fruit of a poet's

This horrible autographical picture must not be disimagination. The character of Barabas was but an embodiment of the vulgar fancies entertained respecting the Jews; and while terming them vulgar, it is fitting also that we should call them absurdly and extravagantly erroneous. As far as the point can now be determined by the cool-judging eye of posterity, they seem to have been utterly without foundation. They prevailed widely, however, and led to epidemical outbreaks of persecution, most destructive in their results to the scattered children of Israel.

a short cut by the main road, across the high cultisource of the affection is in some measure obvious. vated grounds of Thanet, we reach Ramsgate, at a The tenacity with which the Jews cling to the faith distance of four miles from Margate, and find that, and customs of their forefathers, and the comparative with the same foolish crowding together of streets, mystery attending their various ritual observances, it is far superior as a place of healthful resort. Ramsgate occupies an exceedingly striking situation, have led to the belief that they also preserve in secret partly in a hollow leading up from the shore, but the same sentiments of aversion and hate, which more particularly on the top of the cliffs which bound caused the martyrdom of the founder of Christianity. this hollow on each side, and fronting the clear In Great Britain, certainly, and other countries adexpanse of sea. The cliffs here are from sixty to vanced in knowledge, these illiberal views do not now seventy fect in height, and being of pure white chalk, have a light dazzling appearance. By flights prevail; but they are far from being extinct among of well-constructed steps, the lofty terraces on which the less educated Christian communities. The recent the straight lines and crescents of houses are placed, persecution of the Jews of Damascus will be rememare connected with the wide stretch of fine sands be-bered by every one; and in Poland, but a few weeks neath. These sands are among the finest I have any where seen, and are only inferior to those at Portobello, near Edinburgh, which, I have no hesitation in saying, are unmatched for extent and beauty. At the time of my visit to the Ramsgate sands, the weather was clear and beautiful, and they were crowded with promenaders, as well as lady invalids on neatly saddled donkeys, pacing easily along the margin of the rippling tide. Opposite the central and lower part of the town is the harbour, which is of modern erection, and upon a most extensive and substantial scale. On account of the want of natural harbourage for shipping along this bold line of coast, there is no place of refuge, in the case of storms, between the Downs and the Thames; and to obviate this serious deficiency, the harbour of Ramsgate has been erected at an enormous outlay, which is met by a tax on all vessels passing, whether they use the harbour or not. The harbour is of a circular form, nearly enclosed with broad stone piers, and contains a superficies of about forty-six acres. It is never left dry by the tides, and by means of reserved masses of water and sluices, it is scoured of the sand-banks which have a tendency to accumulate within its bounds. On the occasion of extremely heavy gales from the east and north-east, hundreds of vessels of all nations may be seen fleeing to this famed harbour for succour, which is afforded to all with an equal degree of liberality. In fine weather, the piers, At the close of the poem, Chaucer refers to another rope, the Jews were kept, altogether, in a most miserwhich are smoothly paved with granite, offer a most agreeable marine parade to the numerous transient residents. The character of Ramsgate, as I learned on inquiry, differs very materially from that of Margate. Along with Broadstairs, it is resorted to by a higher and more expressly health-seeking class of visitants, and its very aspect conveys the notion of something more refined and tasteful.

In the course of the day which I spent in Ramsgate and its vicinity, I did not omit to visit the favourite excursion terminus at Pegwell Bay, at a mile and a half's distance to the south. Here, on the edge of the mouldering cliff, stand a few houses in an apparently perilous situation, for the sea has, in the course of time, formed a bay, and is now within a

ago, a similar case occurred, though it excited less at-
tention, from the comparative harmlessness of its con-
sequences. Even in England, however, but a few
centuries ago, the most extraordinary notions were
entertained respecting the practices of the Jews. The
prioress's story, in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, con-
tains abundance of passages which show that the poet
believed the Jews to be capable of any cruelty. The
prioress relates that "in Asie, in a great citee,"
where there was "among Christen folk a Jewerie,"
a child was slain by the Hebrews, because, "as he
came to and fro, full merrily would he sing and cry,
Oh alma Redemptoris ! (mother of the Redeemer)
ever mo!" A miracle is described as having fol-
lowed, the little boy continuing to sing "Oh alma
Redemptoris !" from the pit into which his mangled
body was cast. Then-

"With tormont and with shameful death, each one,
The provost doth these Jews for to sterve
That of this murder wist. * * *
Therefore with wild horse he did them draw,
And, after that, he hung them by the law."

case, exclaiming,

"Oh young

Hew of Lincoln! slain also
By cursed Jews, as it is notable,
For it was but a little while ago."

The boy of the Asiatic city and young Hugh of
Lincoln were but examples of a dreadful criminality
ascribed in the middle ages to the Jews. This un-
happy race were generally believed to make a practice
of stealing away and murdering Christian children,
in order to use their blood to leaven some of the
substances to be eaten in the course of their rites.
The superstition is not yet extinguished in some parts

Both before and after the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus, the Jews were subjected to repeated massacrings by the Romans, in Rome, Egypt, and elsewhere; but although the peculiar religious faith of the Jews was in part the cause of these misfortunes, political motives had a still greater share in producing them. It was after Christianity had expelled Paganism from the various countries of Europe, that the Jews began to suffer those particular persecutions which fall within the scope of our present notice. In the twelfth century, a band of two hundred thousand men assembled in Europe for a crusade against the Saracens. At this period the Jews were numerous in France, Germany, and other regions of the Continent, and prejudices ran high against them. By way, therefore, of losing no time, the vast band alluded to comJews in every city which they passed through. At menced their labours for the cross by massacring the Cologne, Worms, Treves, and other places, great numbers perished in this way. Conversion or death were the alternatives placed before them, and they almost uniformly preferred the latter of the two. Some of the Jews of Treves, warned of the approach of the crusaders, gathered together their children and killed them, to "prevent their being subjected to the insult of Christian baptism." A band of Jewish women belonging to the same place went to the side of the Moselle, and, having loaded their clothes with stones, threw themselves into the river, where they perished. Many similar scenes took place on this occasion. While the crusading mania lasted in Eu

able condition. The pretence for misusing them was
usually some imaginary crime of the kind already
described. In the year 1171, for example, many of
the Jews of Blois were burned, on a charge of having
crucified a Christian child, in mockery of the Passion
throne was occupied by Stephen, the Jews of Norwich
of Jesus. In England, in the year 1144, while the
were persecuted on a charge of murdering in like
manner a boy named William; and in the sixth year
of Henry II. (1160), the Jews of Gloucester were
maltreated on the faith of a similar accusation.
In the reign of Dagobert, about the year 640, the
Jews had been banished from France. They were
permitted to return, however, and remained without
further molestation till the twelfth century, a period

so fatal to their race in Europe. At that period
Philip Augustus resolved again to expel them, osten-
sibly on account of their crimes, but in reality because
of their great wealth. In his reign they possessed, it
is said, one-half of the whole property of the city of
Paris. Philip Augustus first gave a statutory quit-
tance to all the Christians of his kingdom of the debts
they owed to the Jews, only causing a fifth part to be
paid to himself for the good act; and he then gave
the Hebrews their choice of baptism or banishment.
With all the moveables left in their possession, the
majority of the poor Jews consequently left France in
July of the year 1182. Seven years afterwards, the
Jews of England, also, were treated in a most bar-
barous way.
Richard Coeur de Lion, then upon the
throne, had given orders that none of that race should
approach his palace during the holding of a solemn
birth-day festival. Ignorant of these orders, some of
the leading men of the Jews went to the palace with
presents for the king, suitable to the occasion. They
were repelled with insults, and the people, observing
this circumstance, attacked the little band, and killed
several of them. A rumour immediately spread
through London that the king had commanded the
extermination of the whole of the Jews, and the ima-
ginary order was fulfilled in that city to the letter,
with great accompanying cruelty. Other cities caught
up a like impression, and assassinated the majority of
the Jews within their respective bounds. The most
deplorable scene of all took place at York. There
the Jews were very wealthy and numerous, five hun-
dred being the amount of the men among them, ex-
clusive of women and children. The whole of these
people shut themselves up in a tower, and were there
besieged by the populace. Finding no mode of escape
open to them, the Jews resolved to fall by their own
hands, rather than expose themselves to the tender
mercies of their enemies. Each head of a family took
a razor, with which he slew first his wife and children,
then his domestics, and finally himself. Either in
this awful manner, or by the hands of the populace,
every Jew of York perished!

During the thirteenth century, the continued excitement relative to the Crusades left the Hebrew

people no rest or safety. In the year 1240, Duke John of Brittany banished them from his dominions, and, in 1236, they were vilely misused in Spain. Eisewhere, similar scenes took place at the same period. The compiler of the Causes Célébres, while detailing these and other persecutions which they suffered, gives instances of the crimes laid to the charge of the Israelite tribes. In 1220 (says he) a boy, named Henry, was killed by them in Alsatia ; in 1225, a boy at Norwich; in 1236, several children at Fulde; in 1255, a child of nine years at Lincoln (Chaucer's "Young Hew of Lincoln"); in 1261, a girl of seven years in the Marquisate of Bade; in 1287, a child at Berne, and another in the same year at Munich; in 1289, another in Suabia; and so on. In truth, however, wherever the Jews were peculiarly wealthy, there such accusations are found to have sprung up against them in plenty. The history of their various banishments from France gives us clear and irrefragable proof of the true source of such charges. Having once fairly stripped them of their property, for example, Philip Augustus showed what his original motives had been, and that he had no sincere fear of their practices, by allowing them to return, and they afterwards remained unmolested in France until they had accumulated sufficient wealth to tempt cupidity anew. Then again were charges brought against them, and they were robbed once more of a great part of their means by banishment. For the sixth or seventh time, they were thus treated by Louis XIII., so late as the year 1615, being expelled from France by statute. In other countries, similar alternations of repose and persecution, and from similar motives, characterised the history of the Jews.

count. As might be expected, other accusations were
brought at the same time against the Jews of Mentz,
and a due amount of fines and confiscations followed-
as might also be expected.

It is lamentable to see such scenes revived at the
present day, in the face of all reason and justice. By
the interposition of the more civilised portions of the
Christian world, they have been put a stop to, how-
ever-let us hope not soon to be renewed. If occa-
sion does require it, the British public may be encou-
raged to the same generous interference by having
the folly and destructiveness of such prejudices in past
times laid before them, as has been briefly done in
the present sketch.

BENEVOLA; A TALE.*
THIS pleasant and instructive little volume opens
with an account of Benevola, the last of the fairies, a
being of supernatural character, but not exempt from
human error. She is represented as stopping one
evening in an English village, near a cottage occupied
by one Martin, a labouring man. A sister of Mrs
Martin, who had formerly made an imprudent mar-
riage with a player named Collins, comes up the
street, in great distress, with two children, and is
kindly received by Mrs Martin and their common
mother, who lives in the cottage, and is blind.
A storm takes place, and an alarm is communicated
that John Martin, coming along the village street,
had been struck by lightning. The feelings of the
various parties need not be related. In a few minutes,
Martin is borne into his cottage insensible, and laid
on a bed, where for some time he gives no sign of
life except a faint low breathing. At length "an
exclamation from Mrs Martin brought her sister
and farmer Mitchell to the bedside. Martin appeared
to be restored in some measure to consciousness; he
raised his hand, and passed it several times before his
eyes, as if to remove something which obstructed his
sight.

'All is dark,' he muttered to himself. If I could but see the light once again !-no night could be so black as this. Mrs Martin leant fearfully over him. John,' she said, 'my own dearest husband, speak to me--but one word only-tell me how you feel.'

"Is that you, Ann? Bring a light; let me see you. Why do you keep me in the dark? It is not dark, dear John; there are two candles burning in the room, beside the fire-light.' The wretched man sat up, and, stretching out his arms, said, in a hoarse and faltering voice, 'Bring the candles close to me-closer, closer still.'

*

His wife held them to his eyes.

Ann, I cannot see. Why do you not hold them nearer?

Indeed, John, I should burn you if I put them nearer; they almost touch your face.' He sank back with a heavy groan. Mary took the candles from her sister's trembling hands; and the farmer, drawing his sleeve across his eyes, said, in a quivering voice, which he in vain attempted to render firm, 'Cheer up, Martin, the doctor will soon be here, and, I warrant, will do something for you.' But Martin made no answer. He said once, My poor Ann!' and a little afterwards, 'What will become of my children?' These few words alone showed on what his thoughts were fixed.

The deep stillness which reigned in the cottage was only broken by the low suppressed sobs of Mrs Martin and her sister, or by the hasty tread and cheerful whistle of a returning labourer.

At length the sound of horses' feet was heard. Farmer Mitchell started up, and, after some conversation with the doctor at the door, returned with him into the room.

Dr Nugent sat down by the bed, and attentively examined Martin's eyes.

Is there any hope? faltered the old woman. Her daughters could not put the question: they saw the

answer in his countenance.

The doctor shook his head, said that he feared the sight was quite gone, but desired that Martin might be kept quiet; and promising to call again the next day, he gently pushed by the farmer, who was standing with a fee ready in his hand, mounted his horse, and rode off.

Our readers may now have had nearly enough of this subject, and we shall only refer to another case in which the Jews sustained persecution, at a comparatively recent era. In the year 1669, the wife of a peasant, living within a short distance of the city of Mentz, left her dwelling to water some linen by the side of a neighbouring stream. She was followed by her son, a child of three years old, whom she soon after missed from the spot where she had left him, and which was but twenty or thirty yards from the stream. She looked around for him, but in vain; and equally fruitless was the subsequent search of the father of the child and other friends. At last, the father was informed by a man whom he met on the highway near Mentz, that a Jew had passed shortly before on horseback, with a child before him. This clue was followed up, and a Jew named Raphael Levi was The fairy was much grieved by the touching scene finally charged with stealing and murdering the child. she had just witnessed; and slowly and thoughtfully The ancient prejudices of the people, dormant for a resumed her journey, reasoning thus with herself :time, broke out with the fury of an epidemical fever,How will this family be supported in future? Their and the whole of the Hebrews of Mentz fell under the means of subsistence entirely depended on the industry of the father of the fruits of that industry they are now deprived. They must be reduced to a state of absolute destitution, and this by no crimeby nothing which good conduct could have prevented; not from idleness, which exertion would have overcome; not from negligence, which prudence might have foreseen and guarded against. To the other sister it may be objected, that she caused her own misfortunes by an early and improvident marriage;

ban of popular distrust. In a wood adjoining the spot where he disappeared, was found the body of the missing child, so much lacerated and mangled, that, but for violent prepossessions, men would certainly have at once ascribed the mishap to a wolf. But this natural solution of the mystery found no favour with the people, and Raphael Levi was executed. He remained firm to the last, even under the torture, in his denial of all share in the death of the child; and the same constancy was shown by various others who were put to the question on the same ac

*London: Charles Knight. 1840.

and bitterly has she paid the penalty of her imprudence. Not so with this. And from whom will the now wretched family obtain relief? Not from th higher classes, I fear; not from the opulent and wealthy-but, if at all, from their immediate neighbours; from that class which, although the most willing, is the least capable of rendering assistance. How many similar cases may not now exist in this apparently flourishing country? Surely such misery is susceptible of alleviation at least, if not prevention; surely it should not be by the poor alone that the poor, in such circumstances, are supported. Yet thus it will be, without some direct and powerful intervention; for among all ranks of people there is greater sympathy expressed for, and more readiness shown, in relieving the misfortunes of each separate class, by the members of that class, than is found to exist in any class which is distinct from, or unconnected with it. This seems universal.'

After long pondering on these things, Benevola exclaimed, There ought to be a law providing adequate relief, at the common charge, in all cases of destitution, from whatever cause arising. Where entire support is not needed, occasional assistance might be given. When an industrious man is unable to support a large family, the rent of his cottage might be paid, or an allowance might be made for supporting some of his children; and in dear times, and during periods of scarcity, food and employment might be found for those who really want it. The funds requisite for such a measure of relief might be levied from all proprietors of land, or from all persons renting land, in a ratio corresponding to the interest they severally possess in such land, or to the rent they pay; and I will not rest until a law of this kind is framed, and carried into effect in "merrie Eng

land."'"

Benevola then proceeds to London, and, working by some cccult means on the feelings of the prime minister of the day, succeeds in bringing about the establishment of a poor-law, based upon the vrinciples above adverted to.

Returning after many years from the sunny south, she once more passed through England;"" when curiosity induced her to direct her flight towards the village which she had previously visited, and where her sympathies had been so powerfully excited.

It was no longer in the contented and apparently flourishing condition in which she had first seen it. The windows of most of the cottages were broken, and stuffed with rags; the walls were cracked and stained in many places by the weather, and the thatch was overgrown with long rank grass; the street, likewise, was broken into puddles, and littered with halfeaten turnips and rotten cabbage-leaves. In other respects the village looked much the same, excepting that a large red brick building had started up opposite the apothecary's shop, and several additional alehouses had been established. Mrs Martin's cottage had fared as the rest; the neat garden was destroyed, the flowers were dead, and sturdy thistles and widespreading docks and nettles flourished in their room. A young woman stood at the open door, holding a dirty sickly-looking child in her arms; her gown was torn, and only fastened by a single pin, against which the child had just scratched its hand, and was crying aloud with pain, while its heedless mother stood watching the butcher's boy sweeping the week's accumulated dirt from his master's shop into the

street.

The interior of the cottage was as comfortless as the exterior. A fire was burning in the rusty grate, but the hearth appeared never to have been swept. A ricketty table propped against the wall, a broken bench, a kettle, and a few wooden platters, were the only articles of furniture; and the floor was strewed with fragments of potatoes and greasy bread. In the middle of the room, upon a basket turned upside down, sat a man, his head hanging down, his arms folded on his breast, and his eyes fixed on the ground with a look of stupid sottish gravity. He was still young, but frequent intoxication had enfeebled his constitution, and given an appearance of age as well as vacant inanity to his countenance.

At that moment a man turned the corner, and came slowly up the street: his ragged dress and emaciated frame bespoke poverty and want. Whilst still at some distance, the woman called out to him, with a loud laugh, 'Well, Cousin Collins, which d'ye think is best paymaster now, farmer Grogan, or the parish?

The man attempted to pass her without replying, but she took hold of his arm, and repeated her question. He then raised his eyes, and said, Farmer Grogan is not to blame; he would not have turned us off if he could have helped it; but the rates came so heavy upon him, that he could not afford to pay them, and give us full wages; so he was forced to take on the parish men, although he said he knew he should lose by it, for they did little more work than they liked themselves, and that badly, because they did not depend on him for their wages, but on the parish.'

But I say, Collins,' continued the woman, what's the good, I want to know, of being the best workman, and the most industrious and sober man in the parish? What have you got by it? You are halfstarved now, and will have to come on the parish at last. Why, here's Sall Mansfield and her husband they get a shilling a-week for each of their children, and their rent is paid, though you and I know that he earns ten shillings a-week wages. He wasn't half

as well off before he came on the parish, for he was
a lazy workman, and none of the farmers would em-
ploy him but now they must find him in work, or
support him and his family in idleness; so now you
see he lives like a prince, with as much to eat as he
likes, and plenty to spend in drink into the bargain.'
'He is an idle, drunken fellow,' said Collins, and
his wife is no better. I wonder that you, Mary, keep
company with such people.'

"Why,' said she, what's the use of holding one's head so high? You know, Mother Martin always declared it would break her heart to set foot inside a workhouse; and there she is living still, and as merry as possible.'

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mary Simmons, for talking in that way, when you know your mother almost starved herself to give you food, and worked like a slave, that she might send you to school and bring you up decently.'

That's all very fine talking,' replied the woman, whom the fairy perceived to be Mrs Martin's daughter; 'but what was I to do with her, and two children of my own (which I had then) to support?'

The parish made you an allowance for them, didn't it?

And so it ought,' replied Mary; 'I had as much right to it as the rest. However, I shan't waste my time in talking to obstinate people like you.' And, with a toss of the head, she returned into the cottage."

Collins goes home to a desolate hearth, a sickly wife, and dying child. He is in despair, and resolves to become, what his honest nature had long revolted from, a pauper. He goes to apply for relief, and, in his absence, his child expires through cold and hunger. Denied relief, he returns home half-frantic, finds his child dead, and curses the law which, by encouraging idleness, had deprived the industrious labourer of the reward due to his toil. Benevola, after witnessing these circumstances with grief, proceeds to the ale-house, where she sees men squandering on drink the allowances made to them by the parish to make up for their low wages, and to aid in supporting their children. "She saw that a reliance upon parish relief had destroyed the great principle of self-reliance and independent exertion; that it had blunted the finer feelings of our nature among the labouring population, and severed, or at least weakened, the social ties which unite the son to the father, the daughter to the mother. She became sensible that her mistake had been, not in affording relief to the destitute, but in giving it on too easy terms; in rendering relief too general and indiscriminate; and in not subjecting the asserted destitution of the claimant to some test to prove the reality of its exist

ence.

She saw also that there was one other defect in the law which she had taken such pains to establish. It was therein declared that each parish should be compelled to support its own poor, and that each applicant should be relieved in the place in which he was born, or to which he belonged. Benevola had considered this a fair and equitable provision at the time, but she now perceived the injurious consequences it had produced; for no labourer would leave his own parish to seek for work elsewhere, as, in case of failure, it was there alone that he could obtain relief. The market for labour was thus necessarily contracted, and liable to great fluctuations.

Benevola found likewise, that it had apparently become the interest of the farmer to employ men who were in receipt of relief from the parish, instead of those who were not so favoured, as the former could afford to work for less wages, being in part supported out of the poor-rates, to which they naturally looked to make up all deficiencies. This of necessity disturbed the natural relations between the master and the labourer: the former had no longer an immediate interest in the welfare of his workmen ; and the latter, suspicious of the farmer, and rendered in a great measure independent of him, by the portion of their wages which they received from the parish, became rude and surly in their manners, and idle and careless in their work; whilst the certainty of obtaining parish pay, in case of being out of employment, rendered them indifferent about the means of procuring it."

In short, Benevola becomes convinced that her first law was wrong, and she sets about the establishment of a new one, the main feature of which was, that the workhouse should be a test of destitution for the able-bodied. Having accomplished this object, she summers it again for some years in the south, but at length pays England another visit. Coming to the same village, she finds it in a better condition than even at first. The woodbines were growing as thickly as ever round Mrs Martin's cottage. "A labourer was about to unlatch the little garden-gate, when a gentleman on horseback rode up, and stopping opposite the cottage, called out, Good evening, Simmons. How have you arranged with farmer Greatrix? The man touched his hat respectfully, and coming forward, said, 'Oh, thank your honour, pretty well at the last. Mr Greatrix was kind enough to say he would give me a trial; and after the first few months, he told me he was quite satisfied with me, and would take me on for the year.'

But,' continued the gentleman, 'I want to know what effect the stopping of all parish pay, and the restriction of relief to the workhouse, has had on

your condition. When the new law was passed, I
was abroad, you know; and I want to learn all about
its operation, and how you find that you are affected
by it, from beginning to end.'

times, and nothing seems to cure him. Mrs Collins, poor thing, does all she can, but she's very sickly herself.'

The gentleman sighed, and after a short pause, said, 'Have you anything in the savings' bank?

'Oh yes, sir, I've a matter of ten pounds; and I am in the labourer's sick-club, too, and my eldest boy and girl attend the new school.'

'I am glad to hear it. Good evening, Simmons.' 'Good evening, sir. I hope Mrs Hartland and the young ladies are pretty well.'

on.

'Quite well, thank you.' And Mr Hartland rode

The fairy followed Simmons to the door of his cottage, and, as he entered, concealed herself in her old hiding-place.

A neatly-dressed good-looking woman was standing by an old-fashioned round oak-table, upon which stood a tea-tray, with some gay-coloured cups and saucers. She was busily occupied in cutting substantial slices of bread and butter, and upon Simmons's entrance she looked up and smiled, saying, as she poured some water into the teapot, 'What has kept you so long, Will, this evening? I fear the "Hen-and-Chickens" was too tempting for you.'

Simmons laughed at this mention of the Hen-andChickens,' to which, in former times, he had been too apt to resort, and explained the cause of his delay: then, taking the youngest child in his arms, he tossed it almost up to the ceiling, making the little thing laugh and crow with delight.

"Why, you see, sir,' said Simmons, 'settling his neckerchief, and twitching his coat-sleeves, proud of being thus questioned by a gentleman of so much consequence as Mr Hartland, when they first told us that no more relief was to be given out of the workhouse, all we who were in the habit of applying to the parish thought ourselves shamefully ill-used. A gentleman, and a member of Parliament, too, I believe, came down among us, and told us that we had as much right to support from the poor-rates as any lord in the land had to his estate. He said that we must take the law into our own hands, and do ourselves justice: that to separate man and wife, as was done in the workhouse, was against the Scriptures; in short, that government had neither the right, nor would it have the power, to carry such a law into execution, if we stood manfully up for our own privileges, as we ought to do. Well, sir, we all thought this very proper, and very fine-for he was a very clever gentleman, and talked away about our natural rights, and the Bible, and said that all men were made equal, and that the riches of a country lay in the labour of the people, and that the people ought to be served first, and have the power in their own hands-for a better than three hours; and his tongue was going all the while as fast as farmer Croft's mill in a high wind. But, somehow, we found that to break the law brought a punishment along with it; The elder children were gathered round their grandfor when, according to his advice, we determined to mother's knee: she was telling them a story; and it smash the workhouse, and actually did break in the must have been a very interesting one, not only from doors and windows, a party of soldiers was sent against the attentive and breathless eagerness of her little us, and the most active amongst us were taken before auditors, but even the old woman's knitting lay nethe magistrates; and one, Tom Evans, was trans-glected in her lap, and her black-rimmed spectacles ported, and several of the rest were sentenced to im- had been taken off, in order to give additional impresprisonment and the tread-wheel. siveness to her tale. In the nicely-plaited cap and clean printed handkerchief, Benevola recognised Mrs Martin's tidiness of attire, as well as her mild intelligent expression of features in the old woman's face. The fairy then passed on to the next cottage. Close to the window sat a thin delicate-looking woman. She was working, and her needle seemed almost to fly through the cloth, so quickly did her fingers move. A little girl was sweeping up the hearth, and another wee todling thing' was trying to climb upon its mother's knee. There was an exHowever, we didn't remain in long, and were mostly pression of patient sadness on her countenance, which out before the end of the first week; for we found told of past sufferings: but the smile which lighted that the old and the new workhouses were very diffe-up her worn features, as she stooped to kiss the rosy, rent, and the guardians weren't to be frightened as the laughing little urchin, seemed sweeter from its sorrow. old overseer was. The farmers, too, after this offered Uncertain, at first, whether it was indeed Mary us fair wages, and we all gradually fell to working Collins, the fairy leant forward to obtain a better view again, and have continued so ever since; and we are of the woman, who had again bent over her work now, I think, happier and better off than we were when hearing a step behind her, she turned, and saw before, as we are employed regularly the whole year Collins himself coming slowly up the little garden. round; for a farmer can always find something to be His cheek was slightly flushed; but the anxious exdone rather than turn his men off in the winter, espe- pression of his eye, and his feeble step, betokened ill cially when he knows that he would have to support health. Want, grief, and disappointment, had sown them in the workhouse till spring comes round again; the seeds of a disease which was now fast hurrying and that then he might not find them when he wanted him to an early grave. them.'

Well, sir, we didn't like this, you may be sure, and we then determined, one and all, to go into the workhouse when next they offered it to us; for we thought that it would never hold us all, and that then they would be obliged to return to the old custom of giving us parish allowance out of the house. But when the day came-it was on a Monday that relief was first refused-only one-half of us went in; I was among them; the rest got frightened and slunk off, leaving us floored.

Well,' said the gentleman, with a smile, I am glad that you have thus found out the evils of the old, and the benefit of the new, poor-law. But did the farmers give you higher wages afterwards, on the lowering of the rates?'

Why, no, sir, not exactly that, I think, although they ought to have done so; but then they have employed us constantly all the year round, which, you know, comes to much the same thing in the end.'

'And what has become of Dick Mansfield? Has he been poaching again?' said the gentleman. He has not been before me since my return.'

Oh, sir, he and his wife shipped themselves off for America, and I'm sure the parish is well rid of them, at any rate.'

'And John Cole, and Sam Evans-what has become of them?"

Why, Sam Evans died of a fever, brought on by drinking. His wife, you know, sir, was a tidy, industrious young woman. Well, we did not like her to go into the workhouse; so, with the help of some of the neighbouring gentry, we clubbed and bought her a mangle; and she and her family are now doing well. Cole has turned a tee-totaller, and is become very sober and industrious.'

And where is your wife's mother-is she still in the workhouse?'

'Old Mrs Martin, your honour means. Oh, no,
sir; the guardians said we must pay something towards
her support, so we thought we might as well have her
at home again. Poor old creature! I thought she
would have died of joy before she got over the
threshold; and my wife and me, we cried like a
couple of children. And then she is so useful with
us-she knits all the stockings, and better and faster
than e'er a one in the village; and teaches the chil-
dren, who are as fond of her as possible; and when
my wife and me want a bit of good advice, we always
go to Mother Martin: so now we would as soon go
there ourselves, as send her into the workhouse.'

There is one other family I want to ask you about
the Collinses,' said the gentleman.
Simmons shook his head, as he answered, 'We are
all very fond of Collins, poor fellow; and the farmers
always give him the lightest jobs to do. But he'll
never be the man he was, sir; he has a bad cough at

Benevola sighed ; and as soon as Collins had entered his cottage, continued her progress through the village, where everything wore an appearance of peace and comfort.

The kindly feelings between the master and the labourer had once more taken root; the money, before employed, in the shape of poor-rates, in encouraging idleness, now went to increase production. Wages had generally risen, and employment had certainly increased, on the abolition of the old law-the farmer finding it more conducive to his interests to employ a greater number of labourers on his land, and to give them higher wages, than to support them in the workhouse; whilst the labourer, depending on the farmer for his wages, found his advantage in industry and good conduct.

It is true that, in seasons of scarcity, privation must in some degree be experienced by all, and of course most heavily by the poorer classes, in consequence of the raised price of provisions: but an increase of price, if caused by a diminution of the usual supply, is, perhaps, the only means by which extreme distress can be averted; for, unless the quantity of food consumed be early reduced, the stock would be exhausted before the period for the new crop arrived, and the people, in the latter part of the season, would be left wholly without food. No human law can prevent these variations in the supply of the necessaries of life, or guard against the distress which they occasion. This can only be done by individual effort, care, and foresight; and hence the importance of industrious and provident habits in a people.

The sun was just sinking below the horizon, and the grey sombre clouds of evening were gradually encroaching on the glowing west, when Benevola sprung from the earth, and once more directed her flight towards her native skies. The buoyant air seemed to bear her onward without effort; a radiant smile was on her lips, and her clear dark eye shone with more than usual lustre, as she paused to take a last look at the village, where she had at first unintentionally been the means of doing so much harm-and afterwards, when tutored by experience, of effecting so much good."

The object of this tale, as the reader will have perceived, is to delineate, in a fictitious form, the comparative characters of the old and new poor-laws of