THE UNIVERSITY DURING THE CIVIL WARS, AND THE SIEGE OF OXFORD.
[Sidenote: The University sides with the King and the Church]
The part to be taken by the University of Oxford in the great national
struggle now impending was never for a moment doubtful. Throughout
its history it had loyally acknowledged not merely the supremacy of
the Crown, in its capacity of paramount Visitor, but the jurisdiction
of the High Commission and other exertions of the prerogative lately
challenged by the Commons, while it stood committed by its own solemn
vote to the doctrine of passive obedience. It was still more closely
identified with the Church. Its property had always been treated in
ancient times as ecclesiastical, being constantly taxed by votes of
the Convocation of Canterbury, and constantly exempted, by royal
letters, from taxes payable on the lands and tenements of laymen.
Its representatives had attended the great Councils of the Western
Church; its Chancellor had always been a great ecclesiastic until the
Reformation; nearly all the Visitors of its colleges were still great
ecclesiastics; and the recent imposition of test-oaths, including those
prescribed by a purely ecclesiastical canon, on all its students,
coupled with the clerical restrictions on most college fellowships,
had effectually rendered it an integral part of the Anglican Church.
No doubt, it contained a strong Puritan element which sympathised
with the Parliament, but the overwhelming majority were heartily on
the side of the Church and the King, and proved themselves capable of
great sacrifices for the cause which they espoused. The first overt act
of the University in support of these principles was taken on April
24, 1641, in the form of a ‘Petition made to the high and honourable
Court of Parliament in behalf of Episcopacy and Cathedralls.’ This
petition was accompanied by another to the same effect, bearing the
signatures of almost all the resident graduates, and derives additional
significance from its date. But a few months before, the canons lately
passed by the Convocation of Canterbury had been declared illegal
by the Commons, and the Bill to exclude bishops from the House of
Lords had just been introduced. Nevertheless, the University did not
hesitate to press upon Parliament, now in no placable mood, the duty of
maintaining not only ‘the ancient and Apostolicall Order’ of bishops,
but also ‘those pious Foundations of Cathedrall Churches, with their
Lands and Revenewes.’ Some of the reasons alleged in support of the
petition are grave and weighty; others, if less solid, are still more
interesting as indications of the light in which Church preferments
were then regarded by University graduates. For instance, cathedral
endowments are extolled ‘as the principal outward motive of all
Students, especially in Divinitie, and the fittest reward of some deep
and eminent Scholars; as affording a competent portion in an ingenuous
way to many younger Brothers of good Parentage who devote themselves
to the Ministery of the Gospell; as the onely meanes of subsistence to
a multitude of Officers and other Ministers, who with their families
depend upon them; as the maine Authors or Upholders of divers Schooles,
Hospitalls, Highwaies, Bridges, and other publique and pious works;
as the cheife support of many thousand families of the Laity, who
enjoy faire estates from them in a free way; and as funds by which
many of the learned Professors in our University are maintained.’ It
was hardly to be expected that such arguments should prevail with Pym
and Hampden, Prynne and Holles; nor can we be surprised to learn that
‘the answer to it was very inconsiderable.’ It was, however, presented
to the King on the following day, and his reply, preserved by Anthony
Wood, is memorable as showing how resolutely he linked the fortunes of
his Crown with those of the Church. He declared openly that he knew
the clergy were suffering because of their fidelity to him, protested
that he would rather feed on bread and water than ‘mingle any part of
God’s patrimonie with his owne revenewes;’ insisted that ‘Learning and
Studies must needs perish if the honors and rewards of Learning were
destroyed;’ and predicted that ‘Monarchy would not stand long if the
Hierarchy perish.’
[Sidenote: The Commons issue an order for the University]
Within a month after the presentation of this petition Strafford
had been executed, and the ‘Root and Branch Bill’ for the complete
abolition of Episcopacy had been read in the Commons. Two months later
(July 1641) the Courts of Star Chamber and High Commission, with the
arbitrary jurisdiction of the King’s Council, had ceased to exist.
On November 22 the ‘Grand Remonstrance’ was passed, containing an
elaborate indictment against the Crown for all the unconstitutional
acts committed since the beginning of the reign, and an appeal to the
people of England. Then followed in quick succession the King’s attempt
to arrest the five members in the House of Commons, his final departure
from London, his refusal to place the custody of fortified places and
the command of the militia in the hands of the Parliament, the levy of
forces on both sides, the rejection by the King of an ultimatum sent by
the Parliament, and the erection of the royal standard at Nottingham,
on August 22, 1642. Of these momentous events the University was, of
course, a mere spectator; but the House of Commons found leisure, in
the midst of its preparations for war, to guard its own interests at
Oxford. On June 28, 1641, it issued an order purporting to abolish the
obligation of subscription to the Three Articles of the Thirty-sixth
Canon, as well as that of doing reverence to the Communion-table, which
seems to have been enjoined in some of the colleges. This order was
actually read in Convocation, and was followed in February 1642 by the
receipt of a ‘Protestation,’ which the Speaker, in the name of the
House, called upon the vice-chancellor and Heads of colleges to take
and impose upon all members, and even servants, of the University,
being of the age of eighteen years and upwards. This Protestation,
conceived in a moderate tone, bound the subscriber to uphold
Protestantism and the union between the three kingdoms of England,
Scotland, and Ireland. As it contained a profession of allegiance
to the Crown, as well as of respect for the power and privileges of
Parliament, it was generally signed, though many loyal Protestants
objected to it as dictated by a party on the verge of rebellion.
[Sidenote: Contribution for the King’s service, and first occupation of
Oxford by Parliamentary troops]
In the summer of 1642, war, though not actually declared, was felt
to be inevitable, and both the king and the Parliament were already
raising supplies for the autumn campaign. On July 7, Charles I., then
at York, addressed a requisition to Prideaux, as vice-chancellor,
inviting the colleges to contribute money for his service by way
of loan at eight per cent. interest, alleging that similar aid had
already been received by his enemies. Convocation immediately voted
away all the reserve funds in Savile’s, Bodley’s, and the University
chest, but it does not appear that any contributions of plate were
made by the colleges on this occasion. On July 12, Parliament issued
an order declaring this requisition illegal, and directing watch and
guard to be set on all highways about Oxford; but it appears from
a letter of the king, dated from Beverley on July 18, that a large
subsidy had then reached him. At the same time, he addressed letters
to the Commissioners of Array for the county, the high sheriff,
and the mayor of Oxford, specially requesting them to protect the
University in case of attack. In the middle of August several hundred
graduates and students enrolled themselves, in accordance with a
royal proclamation, and were regularly drilled in the ‘New Park.’ On
August 28, a troop of Royalist horse, under Sir John Byron, entered
the city, and the volunteers were virtually placed under his orders,
with the apparent consent of the citizens, who, however, did not raise
a similar corps for the defence of their own walls. On September
1, a delegacy of thirty members, including the vice-chancellor and
proctors, and popularly called ‘The Council of War,’ was appointed
for the purpose of arming the scholars and provisioning the Royal
troops. But the resolution of the University was shaken when it was
discovered, on September 9, that the citizens were in communication
with the Parliament, and that a Parliamentary force was about to
move on Oxford from Aylesbury. Indeed, the University went so far as
to despatch emissaries to parley with the Parliamentary commanders
at Aylesbury, who answered them roughly, seized Dr. Pinke, of New
College, the deputy vice-chancellor, and sent him as a prisoner to
London. On the following day Sir John Byron, with his few troopers,
left Oxford to join the king, accompanied by about a hundred scholars,
one of whom, Peter Turner, fell into the hands of the enemy in a
skirmish near Stow-in-the-Wold, and was lodged in Northampton gaol.
On September 12, a body of Parliamentary troops entered the city
from Aylesbury, under Colonel Goodwin, who, with other officers, was
quartered at Merton College, while their horses were turned out in
Christchurch meadow. They were soon followed by Lord Say, the new
Parliamentary lord-lieutenant of Oxfordshire. He proceeded to demolish
the fortifications already begun, and instituted a search for plate
and arms. In fact, however, no college plate was then carried off,
except that of Christchurch and University College, which had been
hidden away. The other colleges, we are told, were spared, ‘upon
condition it should be forthcoming at the Parliament’s appointment, and
not in the least employed against them’—a condition almost impossible
of fulfilment in the event, which actually occurred, of Oxford becoming
the King’s head-quarters. Upon the whole, Lord Say and his men behaved
with great forbearance during this short occupation, which ended on
September 27 or 28. The gownsmen were disarmed, but no injury was done
to buildings or property, beyond some damage to the porch of St. Mary’s
Church and the combustion of ‘divers Popish books and pictures.’
[Sidenote: Oxford becomes the royal head-quarters]
A month later (October 29) Charles I. marched into Oxford by the North
Gate, after the battle of Edgehill, at the head of his army, and
attended by Prince Rupert, Prince Maurice, and his two sons. Even the
mayor and leading citizens welcomed him, while the University received
him with open arms, expressed its devotion in Latin orations, and
showered degrees on the noblemen and courtiers in his train. The king
himself, with the most important personages of his staff, except Rupert
and Maurice, was lodged in Christchurch; the officers were distributed
among other colleges; the soldiers were billeted about the city.
Thenceforward, Oxford became not only the base of operations for the
Royal army, but the chief seat of the royal government. Twenty-seven
pieces of ordnance were driven into the grove of Magdalen College and
ranged there; the citizens were at first disarmed, but a regiment
of city volunteers was afterwards formed, and reviewed together with
a far more trustworthy regiment of University volunteers. A plan of
fortification was prepared by Rallingson, a B.A. of Queen’s College,
and defensive works were constructed all round Oxford under the
directions of engineers. All inmates of colleges, being of military
age, were impressed into labouring personally upon these works for at
least one entire day per week, bringing their own tools with them;
in default of which they were required to pay twelve pence to the
royal treasury. A powder-mill was established at Oseney, and a mint
at New Inn Hall, whence the students had fled, under suspicion of
Roundhead leanings. Thither were removed all the coining machinery and
workmen from the factory which had been established some time before
at Shrewsbury, and the New Inn Hall mint was conducted under the
direction of Thomas Bushell, formerly the manager of the royal mines in
Wales. New College tower and cloisters were converted into an arsenal
for arms, procured by repeated searches, the grammar-school for the
choristers having been removed to a chamber at the east end of the
Hall. The Schools were employed as granaries for the garrison; lectures
and exercises were almost wholly suspended; and in the three years from
1643 to 1646 the annual number of B.A. degrees conferred did not exceed
fifty. Before long, most of the less warlike and loyal fellows and
students retired into the country; those who remained took up arms and
kept guard on the walls; the colleges more and more assumed the aspect
of barracks; and Oxford, no longer a seat of learning, was divided
between the gaieties of a court and the turmoil of a camp.
[Sidenote: Aspect of the University during the queen’s residence]
This transformation was completed in July 1643, when Henrietta Maria
joined the King at Oxford. Charles I. rode out to meet the Queen, whose
passionate and sinister counsels were about to cost him his throne and
his life. She was received with great ceremony at Christchurch, and
conducted by the King himself to Merton College by a back way, made
expressly through gardens belonging to Christchurch and Corpus Christi
College into Merton Grove. There she was saluted with the usual Latin
oration, and took possession of the apartment still known as ‘the
Queen’s room,’ which she occupied, with the adjoining drawing-room,
until the following April. Seldom in history, and never in the annals
of the University, have characters so diverse been grouped together
into so brilliant and picturesque a society as that which thronged
the good city of Oxford during the Queen’s residence in the autumn
and winter of 1643—the last happy interlude of her ill-starred life.
Notwithstanding the paralysis of academical studies, grave dons and
gay young students were still to be seen in the streets, but too often
in no academical garb and affecting the airs of cavaliers, as they
mingled with the ladies of the court in Christchurch walks and Trinity
College gardens, or with roystering troopers in the guard-houses at
Rewley, where they entertained their ruder comrades with flashes
of academic wit. Most of the citizens, too, were glad to remain,
secretly cherishing, perhaps, the hope of a future retribution, but
not unwilling to levy high rents for the lodging of those nobles and
military officers for whom there was no room in the colleges. With
these were blended in strange variety other elements imported from
the metropolis or the country—lawyers who had come down to attend
the courts held by the Lord Keeper and one of his judicial brethren;
the faithful remnant of the Lords and Commons, who sat in one of the
Schools and the Convocation-house respectively, while the University
Acts were performed once more in St. Mary’s Church; loyal gentlemen
driven out of their manor-houses by the enemy; clergymen expelled from
their parsonages; foreigners seeking audiences of the perplexed and
vacillating King; needy poets, musicians, and players in the service
of the Court, who acted interludes or Shakespearian pieces in the
college halls. Services were still performed in the chapels; sermons
were preached from the pulpit of St. Mary’s; degrees were conferred
wholesale, as rewards for loyal service, until they were so depreciated
that at last the King promised to recommend no more candidates for
them; the outward appearances of academical routine were maintained
with decorum; the King dined and supped in public, moving freely among
his devoted adherents with the royal grace and easy dignity which
long seemed to have perished with the Stuarts; the Queen held those
receptions at Merton College of which a tradition has survived to our
own prosaic days; newspapers were published for the first time in
Oxford, and all the resources of courtly literature were employed to
enliven a spectacle over which the awful catastrophe of that historical
tragedy, unforeseen by the actors themselves, has shed a lurid glamour,
never equalled by the romance of fiction.
[Sidenote: The last two years of the civil war]
During this memorable period, the records of the University and
colleges are extremely scanty. The register of Christchurch, then
little more than a royal palace, presents almost a blank; that of
Merton contains few entries bearing on the great events of which Oxford
was the scene or the centre. Early in January 1643, royal letters were
issued to all colleges and halls, desiring the loan of their plate, to
be melted down and coined for the King’s service, ‘we promising you to
see the same justly repayd unto you after the rate of 5/ the ounce for
white, and 5/6 for guilt plate, as soon as God shall enable us.’ All
the colleges, except New Inn Hall, are stated to have complied, and the
aggregate weight of plate thus contributed amounted to some 1,500 lbs.,
besides about 700 lbs. sent in by six country gentlemen. Nevertheless,
in the following June, another levy of 2,000_l._ was made upon the
University and City respectively, to which the City, in an unwonted
fit of loyalty, added another 500_l._ At last, in October 1643, the
Heads of Houses agreed that 40_l._ should be raised weekly during the
next twenty weeks, by a levy on colleges and halls, in lieu of all
further contributions towards new fortifications. In the same month
articles were drawn up by some of the leading residents against the
Earl of Pembroke, Chancellor of Oxford, whom they accused of betraying
the privileges and neglecting the interests of the University, but
whose real crime was complicity with the Parliament, and whom the King
caused to be superseded by the Marquis of Hertford. During the summer
of this year the fortunes of war had, on the whole, been in the King’s
favour; but he had been compelled to abandon his design of occupying
London, and, after the indecisive battle of Newbury, in which Falkland
was killed, had retreated to Oxford for the winter. Thither he summoned
his so-called Parliament in June 1644, and there, yielding to evil
advice from his wife, he rejected overtures which might have brought
about a peaceful settlement without further bloodshed. On May 29, 1644,
a Parliamentary force under the Earl of Essex and Sir William Waller
crossed the river at Sandford Ferry, and passed through Cowley over
Bullingdon Green, on their way from Abingdon to Islip, but nothing
beyond a skirmish took place as they defiled along the heights within
sight of the city. The object of this movement, as soon appeared, was
to enclose the King with his forces in Oxford; but Charles now showed
unexpected resource, and by a masterly night-march eluded the enemy,
and pursued Essex westward, while Prince Rupert defeated Waller at
Copredy Bridge, where many Oxford scholars were engaged. On June 9 a
proclamation of the Privy Council appeared, commanding all persons
to lay in provisions for three months, in anticipation of a siege,
which, however, did not take place in that year. On July 2 the King’s
northern army sustained a crushing defeat at Marston Moor, and the
King himself, though successful against Essex, was almost cut off
on his return to Oxford. On Sunday, October 6, the city of Oxford,
which had been scourged by a plague in the previous year, the natural
result of overcrowding, was ravaged by a great fire, attributed to the
machinations of the Parliamentary troops at Abingdon. The winter passed
quietly at Oxford, and, after the execution of Archbishop Laud in
January 1645, negotiations between the King and Parliament were again
opened at Uxbridge, but in vain. Soon afterwards the Parliamentary army
was remodelled, and placed under the command of Fairfax, who advanced
to besiege Oxford, while Charles, who had retired to Chester, hesitated
between relieving it and giving battle to Cromwell. On May 22, Oxford
was partially invested by Fairfax, and besieged for a fortnight.
Fairfax established his own head-quarters at Headington, Wolvercote
was held by Major Browne, Cromwell was posted at Wytham, and the roads
between that village and South Hincksey were secured by the besiegers.
On June 2, the governor made a successful night sally towards
Headington, and three days later the siege was hastily abandoned, when
Fairfax moved northward to join Cromwell, and on June 14 the Royalist
cause was finally shipwrecked at the battle of Naseby. The theatre of
war was now shifted from the neighbourhood of Oxford, and the last
engagement in the open field took place near Chester in the following
September. Oxford still held out for the King, who again fell back
upon it for the winter, accompanied by Princes Rupert and Maurice, and
gathered around him a great part of the English nobility and gentry
still faithful to his fortunes. On December 28 we find him ordering
special forms of prayer to be used in college chapels on Wednesdays and
Fridays, ‘during these bad times.’
[Sidenote: Siege of Oxford, and proposals of Fairfax guaranteeing
University privileges]
In the spring of 1646, the Parliamentary army devoted itself to
besieging the strong places still occupied by the King’s troops, and on
May 1 Fairfax again appeared before Oxford, which the King had left in
disguise a few days earlier, with only two attendants. The besieging
force was distributed round the north side of the city in the same way
as before, and on May 11 it was formally summoned to surrender. In
the letter of summons, addressed to Sir Thomas Glemham, the governor,
Fairfax used language honourable to himself and to Oxford. ‘I very much
desire the preservation of that place, so famous for learning, from
ruin, which inevitably is like to fall upon it unless you concur.’ More
than one conference was held, and some of the privy councillors in
Oxford strove to protract the negotiations until the King himself could
be consulted. In the end, Fairfax made conciliatory proposals which
the Royalist leaders decided to entertain, ‘submitting,’ as they said,
‘to the fate of the kingdom rather than any way distrusting their own
strength.’ By the final treaty, concluded on June 20, it was stipulated
that both the University and the City should enjoy all their ancient
privileges and immunities from taxation. It was further stipulated that
colleges should ‘enjoy their ancient form of government, subordinate
to the immediate authority and power of Parliament ... and that all
churches, chapels, &c., shall be preserved from defacing and spoil.’
It was, however, significantly added that if any removals of Heads
or other members of the University should be made by Parliament, the
persons so removed should retain their emoluments for six months after
the surrender; and there was an ominous proviso, ‘that this shall not
extend to any reformation there intended by the Parliament, nor give
them any liberty to intermeddle in the government.’
[Sidenote: Surrender of Oxford, and subsequent condition of the
University]
Four days afterwards (June 24), the curtain fell on this memorable
episode in the history of the University. The garrison of Oxford
marched out 3,000 strong, with colours flying and drums beating,
in drenching rain, by Magdalen Bridge, through St. Clement’s, over
Shotover Hill, between files of Roundhead infantry, lining the
whole route, but offering them no injury or affront. About 900 of
them laid down their arms on arriving at Thame; 1,100 enlisted for
service abroad. Hundreds of civilians preceded or straggled after
them; hundreds more, chiefly nobles and gentlemen, accompanied Prince
Rupert and Prince Maurice two days later, besides a large body which
proceeded northward and westward, through St. Giles’s, with a convoy.
Nevertheless, some two thousand remained behind, to whom passes were
afterwards given by Fairfax. These consisted mainly of ‘gentlemen and
their servants, scholars, citizens, and inhabitants, not properly of
the garrison in pay,’ who had been specially permitted by the articles
of surrender to choose their own time for departure. The military
stores had contained no less than six months’ provision, and seventy
barrels of powder were found in the magazine. Indeed, the writer of
an official report, addressed to Speaker Lenthall, congratulates the
Parliament on the bloodless capture of the great Royalist stronghold,
especially as the surrounding fields were soon afterwards flooded, and
siege operations would have been greatly impeded. Order now reigned
again at Oxford, but the University and colleges were almost emptied of
students, and utterly impoverished; notwithstanding which, some of them
contributed out of their penury to relieve the poor of the city, and
All Souls’ passed a self-denying ordinance ‘that there shall be only
one meal a day between this and next Christmas, and so longer, if we
shall see occasion.’ Anthony Wood’s brief description of the state of
the University after the siege had often been quoted, but deserves a
place in every history of the University, since it is the testimony of
an eye-witness: ‘The colleges were much out of repair by the negligence
of soldiers, courtiers, and others who lay in them; a few chambers
which were the meanest (in some colleges none at all) being reserved
for the use of the scholars. Their treasure and plate was all gone,
the books of some libraries embezzled, and the number of scholars
few, and mostly indigent. The halls (wherein, as in some colleges,
ale and beer were sold by the penny in their respective butteries)
were very ruinous. Further, also, having few or none in them except
their respective Principals and families, the chambers in them were,
to prevent ruin and injuries of weather, rented out to laicks. In a
word, there was scarce the face of an University left, all things being
out of order and disturbed.’ This description is confirmed by college
records, still extant, one of which attests the desolation of Merton,
so long occupied by the Queen’s retainers.