THE PERIOD BETWEEN THE RESTORATION AND THE REVOLUTION.
[Sidenote: The Restoration and new Visitation of the University]
On Monday, February 13, 1660, news was brought to Oxford that a ‘free
Parliament,’ or Convention, was about to be assembled, and was hailed
with great rejoicings as a sure presage of the coming Restoration. On
May 29 Charles II. entered London, and in June a new set of Visitors
appeared at Oxford to undo the work of their predecessors under the
Commonwealth. This Visitation was issued at the instance, if not by the
direct authority, of the Marquis of Hertford, who succeeded Richard
Cromwell on his resignation in May on the King’s return, and who
himself, dying in the following October, was succeeded by Clarendon.
Wood draws a graphic picture of the various emotions pourtrayed in the
countenances of the defeated and victorious parties at Oxford, the one
plucking their hats over their eyes and foreseeing speedy retribution,
the others with cheerful looks, and reinstating ‘all tokens of
monarchy that were lately defaced or obscured in the University.’
Happily, the personal constitution of the commission was by no means
exclusive, since at least eight of its members had submitted to the
last Visitation, and held offices during the ‘usurpation,’ as it was
now to be called. Their instructions, too, were mainly directed to a
restitution of expelled Royalists, of whom the number had greatly
dwindled in the interval, many having died or ‘changed their religion,’
while others, being married, were no longer eligible for college
fellowships. It is said that not above one-sixth remained to be
restored, but among these were several persons of considerable note.
Sheldon had already regained the wardenship of All Souls’; Walker
recovered the mastership of University; Oliver again became President
of Magdalen; Yate, Principal of Brasenose; Newlin, President of Corpus;
Potter, President of Trinity; Baylis, President of St. John’s; Mansell,
Principal of Jesus; and Wightwick, Master of Pembroke. Reynolds was
appointed in quick succession Dean of Christchurch and Warden of
Merton, whence he was promoted to the see of Norwich in the following
year. A large proportion of the fellows elected during the previous
Visitation were allowed to keep their places, for which there were
no rival claimants; others, though statutably elected, were turned
out, but in some cases they were consoled with chaplaincies or other
subordinate posts. Two or three months sufficed to complete these
personal changes, but a royal letter re-established all the statutes
and regulations in force before the ‘usurpation,’ including the oaths
introduced under James I., and this letter, coupled with the Act of
Uniformity passed in 1662, must have rendered the positions of many
Puritans at Oxford practically untenable. By a clause in that Act, it
was for the first time required that every person elected to a college
fellowship should make a declaration of conformity to the liturgy of
the Church of England in the presence of the vice-chancellor. Such a
provision had a sensible effect in making Oxford once more a seminary
of the clergy and country gentry, but there was no violent break
in the continuity of its corporate life. For some little time after
the Restoration, the University was in an unsettled state, and the
students, released from the bondage of Puritan discipline, betrayed
some pardonable excitement; but good order revived under a succession
of prudent vice-chancellors, and Oxford, so long the battle-ground of
rival parties in the State, enjoyed comparative repose under Charles II.
[Sidenote: Extension of University buildings. Sheldonian Theatre]
Several improvements in the external features of the city and
University may be dated from this reign. Not the least was the erection
of the famous Sheldonian Theatre for the performance of the annual
Acts, now known as ‘Commemorations,’ and other academical solemnities.
This building was founded by Gilbert Sheldon, who, having resumed the
wardenship of All Souls’ in 1660, and become Archbishop of Canterbury
in 1663, was elected Chancellor in succession to Clarendon in 1667.
In common with many Anglicans of the Laudian school, Sheldon had long
objected to the profanation of St. Mary’s Church involved in the use
of it as a kind of academical town-hall for scholastic exercises and
secular displays. Perhaps the contempt of the Puritans for sacred
edifices had quickened the zeal of Royalists for their dedication to
strictly religious purposes; at all events, the archbishop offered
1,000_l._ towards the construction of a suitable theatre, and, meeting
with little support from others, ultimately took upon himself the whole
cost, amounting to 25,000_l._ The mode in which the site was procured
illustrates the change which was already passing over mediæval Oxford,
now in process of conversion from a fortified into an open town.
Though a great part of the walls was preserved, and the city gates
survived for another century, the ditch was being filled up and new
streets constructed along the course of it. Several houses adjoining
the old ramparts were purchased on the north side of the Divinity
School; Christopher Wren was engaged as the architect, and Streeter as
the painter of the pictures which adorn the ceiling; and the building,
having been commenced in 1664, was completed in 1669—the year in which
the Divinity School was restored according to Wren’s designs. John
Evelyn received a degree at the first academical festival held in it,
and was as much impressed by the grandeur of the spectacle and the
learning of the discourses as he was shocked by the vulgar ribaldry
of the _Terræ Filius_. It is worthy of notice that in the address
delivered on this occasion by Dr. South, as Public Orator, were ‘some
malicious and indecent reflections on the Royal Society, as underminers
of the University.’ That society, in fact, passed through much of its
infancy, if it did not take its birth, at Oxford. Among its earliest
and most influential members were Dr. Wilkins, the Warden of Wadham,
Dr. Goddard, the Warden of Merton, and Dr. Wallis, a Cambridge man,
who afterwards became Savilian professor of geometry in Oxford. These
and others were in the habit of meeting for scientific discussions
at Goddard’s lodgings, or Gresham College, in London, before the end
of the Civil War, but about 1649 all three of them were settled in
Oxford, where they found congenial associates in such men as William
Petty, Robert Boyle, and Wren, and resumed their meetings in Petty’s or
Wilkins’ lodgings, while the rest continued to meet in London.
[Sidenote: Growth of æsthetic tastes and social refinement]
Other facts attest the variety of intellectual life and interests at
Oxford during the same period. Evelyn speaks of an organ as placed
in the upper gallery of the theatre, and of ‘excellent music, both
vocal and instrumental,’ as part of the programme at the opening of
the Sheldonian Theatre. The earliest order for the apportionment of
seats assigns that very gallery ‘for the performance of music,’ while
it allots places to ladies, strangers, and ‘Cambridge scholars.’
Thenceforth music played a considerable part among academical
recreations, and a taste for the _belles-lettres_ and the fine arts
was rapidly developed. In 1677, the Arundel marbles were presented to
the University by the Earl of Arundel, mainly owing to the assiduous
exertions of John Evelyn; on May 24, 1683, the Ashmolean Museum was
opened, and in the next month Convocation accepted Elias Ashmole’s
gift of all his ‘rarities,’ consisting of valuable collections in
natural history and antiquities. A certain air of literary dilettantism
was characteristic of the same age at the University as well as in
the metropolis. Under a statute passed in 1662, bachelors of Arts
were required, before inception, to recite from memory two Latin
declamations of their own composition, and from this period may be
dated the gradual triumph of _Literæ Humaniores_ over scholastic
disputations in the examination-system of Oxford. Versification in
Latin now became a favourite pastime of Oxford scholars, and many poems
of doubtful Latinity on the politics or philosophy of the day were
composed there during the latter half of the seventeenth century. In
the meanwhile, modern notions of comfort were beginning to modify the
old austerity of college life. The earliest of Oxford common-rooms was
instituted at Merton College in 1661, and sixteen years later Anthony
Wood mentions ‘common chambers’ together with alehouses (of which there
were said to be above 370), and the newly established ‘coffea-houses,’
as contributing to the decay of ‘solid and serious learning.’ College
gardens, too, received far more attention than before, and we may
still trace on Loggan’s maps and plans the geometrical designs upon
which these little plots were ingeniously laid out by the Caroline
landscape-gardeners, though Magdalen ‘water walks’ retained their
native wildness.
[Sidenote: First visit of Charles II.]
Charles II. twice visited Oxford, where his presence and example
could scarcely have been conducive to virtue or decorum among the
students. His reign is marked by frequent interference with the freedom
of college elections, in the form of attempts to use fellowships as
rewards for his favourites or the relations of old cavaliers, though
in more than one instance he gracefully retracted his mandate. When he
arrived at Oxford from Salisbury, in September 1665, the plague was at
its height in London. There he remained until the following February,
lodging, as usual, at Christchurch, while the Queen was accommodated
at Merton, residing in the very rooms in which her mother-in-law,
Henrietta Maria, held her Court during the Civil War. Miss Stuart,
afterwards Duchess of Richmond, occupied a fellow’s rooms in the
same college, and another set was assigned to Barbara Villiers, Lady
Castlemaine, and afterwards Duchess of Cleveland. In these rooms, on
December 28, 1665, was born her son, George Villiers, afterwards Earl
of Northumberland and Duke of Grafton. It is stated in the college
register that bachelor fellows and scholars were turned out of their
chambers to make room for the Court, and that as there were more ladies
than students in the chapel, ‘ordinary prayers’ were used in the
service.
[Sidenote: Second visit of Charles II. Parliament assembled and
dissolved at Oxford]
Sixteen years had elapsed before Charles II. again visited Oxford,
in the spring of 1681, to open the last Parliament ever held in the
city, supposing that Whig members would there be subjected to loyalist
influences, and more amenable to his own dictation. The supposed
discovery of the ‘Popish Plot’ in 1678 had provoked a fresh outburst
of Protestant enthusiasm and bigotry. An Act had been passed disabling
all Papists, except the Duke of York, from sitting in either House of
Parliament, and was quickly followed by a Bill to exclude the Duke of
York from the succession. To arrest the progress of this Bill, two
Parliaments had been dissolved by the King, and that summoned to meet
at Oxford lasted but a week. The King journeyed thither surrounded
by his guards of horse and foot, while the Exclusionist leaders were
escorted by hosts of friends and armed retainers. On this occasion,
the schools of geometry, astronomy, and Greek were fitted up for the
House of Lords, the Convocation House being adapted to receive the
Commons. The Commons again brought in the Exclusion Bill. The King met
it with a strange proposal that, after his own death, the government
should be carried on in James’s name by the Prince of Orange as Regent.
The Commons persisted with the Bill, whereupon the Parliament was
suddenly dissolved by the King, who had quietly put the crown and
robes of state into a sedan chair, got into it himself, and surprised
both Houses by his sudden appearance to close the session. During
this short crisis, anti-Papist sentiments found expression among the
gownsmen, but we may safely assume that a majority of graduates were
secretly in favour of the King against the Exclusionists. Anthony Wood,
remarking on the decline of students in 1682, attributes it to three
causes. The first is the constant expectation of another Parliament
to be held at Oxford, and the fear of being turned out to make room
for members. The second is that ‘all those that we call Whigs’ (a name
just invented) ‘and side with the Parliament, will not send their sons
for fear of their being Tories.’ The last is that the University, like
the Episcopal bench, labours under the suspicion of a leaning towards
Popery.
[Sidenote: Doctrine of passive resistance adopted by the University.
Expulsion of Locke]
In the following year, the University was afforded a good opportunity
for demonstrating its sympathy with the Duke of York by the disclosure
of the so-called ‘Rye House Plot.’ Accordingly, on July 21, 1683,
Convocation passed a decree again condemning the doctrine that
resistance to a king is lawful, which doctrine it formulated in six
propositions expressly stated to have been culled from the works
of Milton, Baxter, and Goodwin. By the same decree, however, the
University recorded an equally solemn anathema against other heresies
mostly founded on the despotic principles of Hobbes’ ‘Leviathan,’
thereby anticipating the verdict of the country in 1688. Within three
months of his death, Charles II., acting on these principles, was
betrayed into a strange piece of intolerance, more worthy of his
successor, in which he was abetted by the Chapter of Christchurch,
and of which the illustrious John Locke was the victim. On November 5,
1684, a letter was addressed by Sunderland to Dr. John Fell, Dean of
Christchurch and Bishop of Oxford, directing him to ‘have Locke removed
from being a student.’ Fell replied that Locke had been carefully
watched for years, but had never been heard to utter a disloyal word
against the government, notwithstanding which he basely offered to
procure his removal on receipt of an order from the King, and actually
did so.
[Sidenote: Conduct of the University on the outbreak of Monmouth’s
rebellion. James II.’s treatment of Magdalen College]
In the first year of James II.’s reign, the University of Oxford was
once more stirred by martial ardour, when the Duke of Monmouth landed
in Dorsetshire. Volunteers from the colleges mustered in great force
to oppose him; a troop of horse and a regiment of foot were enrolled
under the Earl of Abingdon, and the victory of Sedgemoor was celebrated
with academical bonfires, in which, for once, the City took part. A
week later, upon a false alarm, the volunteers were again called out,
but soon disbanded. With that strange ignorance of his countrymen which
ultimately proved his ruin, James interpreted these signs of loyalty
as pledges of abject devotion to his person, and proceeded to strain
the well-tried fidelity of the University by gross outrages on its
privileges. The grand secret of his fatuous statecraft was the use of
the dispensing power, as its end was the supremacy of the Crown and the
restoration of the ancient faith. Having obtained an opinion from the
judges favourable to this dispensing power, he had bestowed commissions
in the army and Church preferments on several professed Romanists.
Fell was succeeded as Dean by Massey, an avowed Papist, nominated
by James, and soon afterwards both the Universities were attacked by
the new Court of High Commission. Cambridge boldly refused to obey a
royal mandate for the admission of a Benedictine to a degree without
taking the usual oath. A severer ordeal was prepared for Oxford. With
such instruments as Obadiah Walker, the Master of University, the King
seriously meditated the conversion of the University, and dispensations
were granted for establishing Romanistic services in colleges. By the
Declaration of Indulgence, issued in 1687, James assumed to make Roman
Catholics admissible to corporations; and the colleges appeared to
offer a favourable trial ground for the experiment. All Souls’ had just
escaped a royal mandate for the election of a Roman Catholic to its
wardenship by electing an extreme Tory of doubtful character, who had
friends at Court. The presidentship of Magdalen College was now vacant,
and Farmer, a Papist of notoriously bad character, was recommended for
it by royal letters. The fellows refused to comply, justifying their
refusal on the ground that James’s nominee was not only unfit for the
office but was also disqualified by their statutes. Accordingly, after
vainly petitioning the King to withdraw his command, they elected
Hough, one of their own body, to whom no exception could be taken. The
election was confirmed by the Visitor, but annulled by the new Court
of High Commission, under the presidency of Jefferies, who treated
a deputation from the college with brutal insolence. The King then
issued another order, commanding the college to elect Parker, bishop
of Oxford, an obsequious tool of his own policy. He even came to
Oxford in person, on September 4, 1687, in order to enforce obedience,
and did not scruple to intimidate the fellows with rude threats of
his royal displeasure in case they should prove contumacious. The
conduct of Magdalen on this occasion was eminently constitutional, and
had no slight influence in determining the attitude of the nation.
The fellows maintained their rights firmly but respectfully, and
unanimously declined submission to any arbitrary authority. Thereupon a
commission was appointed with full powers to dispossess all recusants
by military force, and the new President and twenty-five fellows were
actually ejected and declared incapable of Church preferment. Parker
died within a twelvemonth, but James substituted one Gifford, a Papist
of the Sorbonne, and was proceeding to repeople the college with Roman
Catholics when the acquittal of the Seven Bishops and the invitation to
William of Orange suddenly opened his eyes to his real position. During
the month of October 1688 he made desperate efforts to save himself
from ruin, restoring many officers deprived of their commissions,
dissolving the Ecclesiastical Commission, and removing Sunderland
and Petre from his council. In this death-bed fit of repentance he
addressed letters to the bishop of Winchester, as Visitor of Magdalen,
reinstating the ejected fellows, who, however, had scarcely returned
before James had abdicated, and William and Mary had been proclaimed.