THE story of Sandwich, from the earliest historical period till the middle of the seventeenth century, is intimately bound up with the history and fortunes of England. In almost every event of historical importance that occurred, during all the centuries from the Roman occupation to the destruction of the Spanish Armada, Sandwich had a share, and bore an honourable part. From its exposed situation on the direct sea route to London from the south, its importance as a harbour, and its own wealth, it bore the brunt, through many centuries, of the successive Saxon and Scandinavian invasions, and when, after the Norman conquest, it became one of the chief Cinque Ports, it contributed in no small degree to the consolidation of the kingdoms and the establishment of the naval supremacy of England.

SANDWICH. (From a drawing'.by Garden G. Smith.).

Sandwich, in common with the other ports, had to provide ships and men at its own cost, for the King's service, for fifteen days or a longer period if their services were required. This fleet, which was the nucleus and germ of our present navy, and which in 1229 numbered fifty-seven ships, was spread proportionately over the five ports. It had its own ensigns and uniform, and its officers and men were persons of great consideration and importance. In return for their services, the ports enjoyed many immunities and privileges. They were self-governing corporations and their inhabitants were largely exempt from taxation. Their immunity from military service enabled them to give full play to their commercial instincts, and by their enterprise as sailors they created a large trade with the Continental nations, whose commerce they attracted by their wealth and the excellence of their harbours.

During all this long period, Sandwich, as has been said, was one of the most powerful and prosperous of the ports, and had its full share of honourable enterprise and glory. At the time of the Roman occupation, a broad estuary, called by the English, the Wantsum, and which reached from Sandwich to Reculver, separated the Isle of Thanet from the mainland, and though, after the departure of the Romans, this channel began to shrink, it remained for many hundreds of years part of the shortest sea route to London for all vessels coming from the south.

Standing as it did, at the southern end of this estuary, Sandwich became, as it were, the port of London. Its near proximity to the archiepis-copal city of Canterbury, and its situation as the first and last point of contact with the mainland for voyagers, to and from the Continent, the ecclesiastical capital, and London, gave it an importance difficult to conceive, in these days, when international communications have been indefinitely multiplied.

In course of time the Wantsum became gradually narrowed. The alluvial deposits which were brought into its basin by several rivers, ceased to escape seawards, owing to the blocking of their channels by the action of the tide on the sands, with the result that the sea was gradually shut out, and Thanet was restored to the mainland. The course of the Stour, however, remained open for many centuries, and Sandwich retained its maritime importance when others of the ports had fallen into decay.

But the shutting out of the tides, and the consequent blocking of the passage of the Stour seawards, hastened, if it did not create, the condition of things which is present to-day. The eastward drift of sand now proceeded unchecked, and, gradually encroaching on the bay on which Sandwich stood, drove the mouth of the river farther and farther northwards. At the present time it pursues a narrow and winding course of four miles, before it ultimately reaches the sea, and Sandwich has been left, high and dry, with some two miles of sandy waste between it and the sea which formerly washed its walls, and on which once rode proudly the navies of England.

But if the ancient glory and prosperity of Sandwich have long since departed; if its streets are now deserted and grass-grown, untrodden, as of yore, by the feet of dignitaries of Church and State; if Pegwell Bay, of old the landing-place of the invading Dane and Saxon, and where St. Augustine and his monks first set foot on our shores, is now given over to the peaceful shrimper and the cockney excursionist, Sandwich has experienced, in these latter years, a curious revival of prosperity.

An ancient adage runs -

"Of many people it hath been sayed, That Tenterden steeple, Sandwich haven hath decayed."

And this puzzling statement is explained on the ground that funds that were set apart for the construction of a sea-wall were used for the building of the church. If the locking out of the sea and the consequent decay of Sandwich is thus to be laid at the door of the church, it should be remembered that to this clerical misappropriation of funds, and its consequences, Sandwich to-day owes its golf course and club, and the revival of trade and prosperity which have resulted therefrom.

History repeats itself, and what was sung by a northern poet, earlier in the century, of St. Andrews, may with equal force and appropriateness be said to-day of Sandwich: -

"St. Andrews, they say that thy glories are gone, That thy streets are deserted, thy castles o'erthrown. If thy glories be gone, they are only methinks As it were by enchantment, transferred to thy links. Though thy streets be not now, as of yore, full of prelates, Of abbots and monks, and of hot-headed zealots,

Let none judge us harshly, or blame us as scoffers When we say that instead, there are links full of golfers. With more of good heart and good feeling among them Than the abbots, the monks, and the zealots who sung them. If golfers and caddies be not better neighbours, Than abbots and soldiers, with crosses and sabres, Let such fancies remain with the fool who so thinks, While we toast old St. Andrews, its Golfers and Links."