Earlier in Henry’s reign, attempts had been made to convert the Jews to Christianity, and a house, called the Domus Conversorum, was opened for the reception of converts, in Chancery Lane. But it appears that few of these were made. To be sure, the condition annexed to proselytism—that the proselyte should by that act forfeit his whole property[128]—does not seem very well calculated to bring about such a change. After a few years, however, even these efforts seem to have been given up. Harder and harder measure was dealt to the Jews. They were forbidden to have Christian nurses for their children; they were not allowed to buy or eat meat during Lent; they could not hold any religious disputations; their very prayers in the synagogue must be uttered in a low tone, for fear that the ears of Christians should be polluted by them! But, for all their harsh usage, they were regarded as being unduly favoured by the king. When the Barons’ War broke out, five hundred of the richest Jews in London were seized, in order to extort a subsidy from them; the others were pitilessly murdered. Similar scenes occurred in the other large cities. After the battle of Lewes, their condition was in some degree amended; but to the end of Henry’s reign the same system of merciless pillage and cruelty continued with no real abatement.
In 1268 an occurrence took place at Oxford, which might have caused as furious an ebullition of popular feeling as the supposed outrage at Lincoln. As the chancellor and other officers of the University were on their way to the shrine of St. Frideswide, a Jew rushed up, seized the cross that was borne in front of the procession, and trampled it under foot. He escaped before he could be seized. It is wonderful that the act did not provoke a massacre. The presence of Prince Edward, who chanced to be in Oxford, perhaps prevented it. He ordered that the Jews should, as the penalty of their countryman’s offence, erect a cross of white marble, with the images of the Virgin and Child, on the spot where Merton College now stands.
The death of Henry followed a few years afterwards. It might have been perhaps expected that Edward, one of the greatest and most humane of our kings, would have reversed the iniquitous policy of his father towards the Jews. But he did not. He passed a law forbidding the Jews to lend money on usury on any pretext whatsoever. His desire seems to have been the same as that of Louis IX. of France, to oblige them to devote themselves to manual labour. But they, it appears, had found a different occupation for themselves—clipping and adulterating the current coin of the realm. Whether this accusation was true or not, cannot be determined with any certainty. There is a prima facie likelihood about it. Ground down by exactions, unable to pursue their own trade, or to work at any other, some of them at all events might well be driven to such a mode of obtaining the bare means of living. On the other hand, many were beyond question accused and condemned who wee wholly innocent. The king was greatly disturbed at the course things were taking. He could neither conscientiously condemn nor defend the Jews. It is likely that he took his final resolve of expelling them altogether from his dominions, as the most obvious solution of a great and ever-increasing difficulty. When he had once made up his mind on this point, he was determined enough in his mode of carrying it out. He confiscated the whole of their property, except such as they were able to remove, and ordered them to quit England, on pain of death.
It might be thought that, considering what the condition of the Jews in England for the last fifty years had been, the prospect of quitting for ever the scene of their sufferings would have been welcome rather than otherwise.[129] But such was not the case. A man’s home is his home, after all; and the effect of hardship and trial is often to endear the scenes of their occurrence more deeply to the sufferers. We are told that the last few days before the departure of the Jews witnessed scenes of the most distressing description; that they clung to their old haunts with a lingering affection which, one would think, must have moved the compassion of all who beheld it, however deep the prejudices of race and creed.[130] But the stern edict was not revoked. The festival of All Saints—that day sacred beyond all others to mutual goodwill among all the children of the great Father above—witnessed the consummation of the wrongs of the Jewish people. They went forth into penury and exile from the shores of England, and for nearly four hundred years they returned no more.
FOOTNOTES:
[122] Some towns, as for example Southampton and Newcastle, had petitioned that no Jews might be allowed to reside among them. The request was granted, though it was not found to be any benefit to the towns in question.
[123] This was altered by Edward I. to yellow.
[124] At the same synod he ordered a deacon of the Church, who had turned Jew for the love of a Jewess, to be hanged.
[125] It appears to us that it must have been impossible for any traders, however lucrative their business, to endure such large and continued exactions. The enormous rate of interest levied by the Jews, amounting to 50 per cent. and upwards, goes far to explain it.
[126] It has already been intimated that these charges were always made at times when the kings of England chanced to be in especial need of money. There is no evidence, that I am aware of, to show that the present accusation was due to that cause. But it is impossible to divest one’s mind of the suspicion. Henry’s extreme severity, at all events, had probably some connection with his urgent need of money.