The civil wars, and the changes consequent upon the taking of Oxford,
left the University in a deplorable condition. Many Fellows and
Scholars were dead. Men of learning and high character had been
ejected. No admissions from Westminster, Eton, St. Paul's, Merchant
Tailors, or other public schools had taken place during five or six
years; and parents, in times so troubled, had naturally felt unwilling
to send their sons to a place which was almost as much of a camp as of
a school.
But prospects brightened after the war. Some who had fled when the city
of Oxford was garrisoned now returned, and were promoted according to
seniority. Graduates too came from Cambridge, and helped to fill up
vacancies; also young men long kept at home, entered their names upon
the college books, and supplies from public schools were to some extent
renewed.
Scenes of festivity revived. On the 17th of May, 1649, the University
prepared for the arrival of two distinguished visitors. Fairfax and
Cromwell, with a staff of officers, were on their way to receive
academic honours; and on their arrival, being welcomed with great
rejoicing, they were at once conducted to the apartments of the Warden
of All Souls, where they received a magnificent entertainment. Heads of
houses paid their respects, and one of the fellows of the hospitable
college in which they were lodged delivered a congratulatory speech,
which Wood reports to have been a bad one, "but good enough for the
occasion." The hero of Naseby assured the authorities that he and his
companions were well aware no commonwealth could flourish without
learning, and that whatever the world said to the contrary they meant
to encourage it more and more. He and his companions, with their suite,
dined at the table of the President of Magdalen, and afterwards played
bowls on the college green. In the afternoon, the degree of Doctor of
Laws was conferred on the generals, and that of Master of Arts on the
principal officers. The chieftains were robed in scarlet, and with the
exception of the hood and square cap--which some Puritans scrupled to
wear--and the silver staves--which the beadles had not been able to
obtain from their predecessors in office--the appearance of things in
the Convocation House remained much as usual. All the members standing
bareheaded, Proctor Zanchy presented the guests to the Vice-Chancellor,
and delivered a short speech. The speech is not reported, but if an
incident, such as occurred when South was conducting a soldier to
receive an honorary degree, had taken place on this occasion, the
witticism of that orator would have been very appropriate:--"_Præsento
vobis virum hunc bellicosissmum_," commenced the speaker. Just then
the warrior happened suddenly to turn round, "_Qui nunquam antea
tergiversatus est_," added the ready wit.
The Earl of Pembroke, who had been Chancellor, died in January, 1650.
At a convocation held twelve months afterwards, the University elected
Cromwell to the vacant office. Warriors seem not the fittest persons
for such a post, but as respects the University which placed Wellington
in the chair once occupied by Cromwell many will agree with Kohl:
"These are the two most remarkable Chancellors of Oxford, ever heard
of."
[Sidenote: _Owen Vice-Chancellor._]
When Dr. Fell had been ejected from the Deanery of Christ Church, Dr.
Edward Reynolds, a Presbyterian, succeeded him for a short period,
after which Dr. Owen, the Independent filled the office. Although he
had been a student in the University his Independency had excited
such strong prejudices, that on his taking a Doctor's degree some
did "intend to battle him, when he came to dispute, thinking that
as he had been so long time absent from the University, he would be
unready both in speaking Latin and disputing. He was better prepared,
however, than they were aware of, and keeping them to the strict rules
of disputation, he managed the whole exercise with such exactness as
frustrated their expectations."[244]
Owen was admirably fitted for the station which he occupied. To a
rare amount of theological learning he united personal endowments and
accomplishments, such as carry with them an indefinable influence, and
command respect even from the prejudiced. He had a dignified presence,
a face not soon to be forgotten, eyes of penetrating brightness, lips
of firm resolve, a countenance generally very grave, and which could be
very stern, profuse locks curling over the shoulder, and altogether the
air and bearing of a gentleman. His appearance had arrested Cromwell's
notice. "Sir," said the general, laying his hand on Owen's shoulder,
"you are a person I must be acquainted with." "That," replied the
Divine; with the courtliness of a cavalier, "will be much more to my
advantage than yours." They became friends. Cromwell honoured Owen,
and nominated him to the Vice-Chancellorship after the Parliament had
appointed him to the Deanery.
Although Owen rose to the Vice-Chancellorship in September, 1652, it
is remarkable that there is no annual oration by him for the year
1653.[245] The circumstance becomes significant on a perusal of
the oration for 1654, and some light is thrown on the state of the
University during the year when the oration was omitted. In 1654, the
speaker pointedly alludes to some extraordinary perils the University
had just survived.[246] There had been a conflict, he said, out of
which the University rose, not with trophies, spoils, and garlands,
but with scars, and with torn standards, dragged in dust. He and his
learned colleagues had fought for what had been handed down from
antiquity--the depository of past ages, and the seed-plot of precious
hopes. They had put to flight wine-shops, ale-sellers, mimics, farces,
buffoons, the public riots, and disgraceful scenes infesting the
streets. Halls and edifices had been deserted and insulted, tottering
to their fall, supporters had gone, props were removed, and things
presented a melancholy spectacle; but God had preserved and wonderfully
restored the University, after winds and storms had assailed it in
vain. Under Owen's rhetorical Latin, so characteristic of the age, we
discover the fact that the former year, when the annual oration had
been omitted, was one of strange confusion in Oxford.
[Sidenote: His Speeches.]
The oration of 1657 further indicates the difficulties of the year
1653, and touches upon some which seemed far more threatening than
any mentioned in the former speech. Five years--said Owen--had passed
since his elevation to office, and for two years after that elevation
the critical situation of the University had been a subject for
astrologers and newspapers--to such a pitch did things arrive that
to have advocated public schools would have been reckoned offensive
to religion. Everything disgraceful was imputed to the advocates of
learning. Affairs were in confusion, and on the edge of the pit, and
the University was saved by a miracle. "When," he adds, "it appeared to
what length audacity, rage, and ignorance would carry those from whom
better things might have been expected, the Supreme Arbiter of Events
so frustrated their efforts in a moment, that with all their strength
they scarcely could take care of themselves who _three days before_
were in the act of devouring us. Nothing remained to these wretched
creatures except great disgrace, everlasting infamy of the unprincipled
attempt upon the seats of learning, which God in His displeasure
averted."[247]
This passage points to a kind of danger different from that which is
deplored in the earlier oration. Then the Vice-Chancellor spoke of
internal confusions, of the undisciplined condition of the colleges,
and of the riotous conduct of the gownsmen and townspeople: now his
speech relates to external attacks, to opinions afloat in the country,
and to unprincipled attempts made by enemies of learning for the
overthrow of the Universities altogether. The "three days" are most
significant words, and we cannot help connecting the expression with
that critical period when the Little Parliament was arrested by
Cromwell in its destructive career.
The tendencies of that Parliament have been indicated, and although
Clarendon is a prejudiced witness in the case, yet making on that
ground some abatement from his evidence, it appears there is truth in
his remark, that the House proposed the sale of lands belonging to
the Universities, and that the moneys arising from such sale should
be employed for the public service. No proof exists, as far as we
are aware, of any resolution or motion to that effect, yet it seems
more than possible that such things might be talked of in the Little
Parliament by some of the more fanatical of its members. There must
have been some good reason for the remark which Cromwell made in a
speech he delivered in the year 1657. "What the issue of that meeting
(the Little Parliament) would have been 'seemed questionable,' and was
feared; upon which the sober men of that meeting did withdraw; and
came and returned my power as far as they could,--they did actually
the greater part of them,--into my hands, professing and believing
that the issue of that meeting would have been the subversion of your
laws, and of all the liberties of this nation, the destruction of the
ministers of this nation, in a word the confusion of all things."[248]
Further evidence might be cited to the same effect,[249] nor are there
wanting proofs, as will be seen hereafter, that perilous changes were
contemplated, and that even certain ministers of religion at that time
so undervalued learning as to lead the attack which was made on the
Universities. Dell and Webster, who made themselves conspicuous in this
respect, will be noticed in connection with Cambridge.
[Sidenote: University Costume.]
During the period in which Owen held the Vice-Chancellorship at Oxford,
he devoted himself to the accomplishment of academical reforms. He was
anxious to abolish the use of unnecessary oaths, to multiply public
exercises for the improvement of students, to prevent gownsmen from
leading idle lives, to modify the public acts so as to render them
occasions for useful discussion, and to abolish the custom of allowing
the _terræ filius_ (as he was called) to indulge in unseemly satire and
vulgar abuse. But he did not succeed in all his plans, in consequence
of the opposition which was made by parties in the University.
One curious custom abolished by the Parliamentary visitors before Owen
became Vice-Chancellor may be mentioned here. Upon the decease of any
one of the heads of houses, or of any other distinguished person, the
University bellman put on the gown and formalities of the defunct, and
with his bell proclaimed in every hall and college that it had pleased
God to take out of this world the individual whom the official so
strangely represented. He gave notice, at the same time, that on such
a day the deceased would be solemnly interred. Besides abolishing this
odd practice, the visitors prohibited the bellman's going before the
corpse from the college to the church.[250]
Anthony Wood is sadly distressed at the Vice-Chancellor's irregular
proceedings with regard to college habits,[251] and, indeed, this is
the principal complaint which he urges against his administration.
"Instead of short hair, collar-band, and cassock in the pulpit," the
Oxford historian complains, "we might have beheld long powdered hair,
large hands, and shirts half hanging out at their sleeve, and they
themselves accounting nothing more ridiculous than starch formality.
As for caps, square or round, none were worn publicly only in some
colleges at refection or scholastic exercises." Hoods, he says, were
used at length by none but the Proctors, and the Vice-Chancellor sat
with his hat on, 'and that cockt.' He went "in quirpo like a young
scholar, with powdered hair, snake-bone bandstrings, (or bandstrings
having large tassels), lawn band, a large set of ribands pointed,
at his knees, and Spanish leather boots with large lawn tops."[252]
The representation brings the Puritan before us in the costume of
a Cavalier, and, if correct, is certainly irreconcilable with the
pictures commonly drawn of the class of persons to whom Owen belonged.
A Roundhead thus attired is a very anomalous being, and the description
makes us suspect that, let the Dean have dressed as he might, he could
not have pleased his angry critic. Indeed the Puritans have been
represented by certain historians in such a way as to remind one of the
pictures of Brueghel, who so accustomed himself to paint witches and
imps, that when he tried to depict a man he was sure to make him look
like a devil.[253]
[Sidenote: _Oxford Celebrities._]
It may be interesting here to pause for a moment, and to notice some of
the remarkable individuals who were connected with the University at
the time of the Commonwealth.
Amongst the Canons of Christchurch was Ralph Button, who, on his
election to a Fellowship at Exeter College, won from Dr. Prideaux the
witty compliment, that all who were elected besides him were "not
worth a _button_;" and, amongst the gownsmen, who in those days paced
the quadrangle, or loitered in the green meadows of that magnificent
foundation, were other men of whom Oxford has since been proud. A pale,
delicate young student might have been seen there, who was destined to
carry his genius into the regions of metaphysics, and to expound with
rare sagacity and power the principles of religious toleration. There,
also, was a hearty-looking Bachelor of Arts, with a keen, but scarcely
good-humoured expression, whose eloquence and wit afterwards rendered
him one of the cleverest, if not one of the best preachers of the
Church of England. John Locke and Robert South were both Christchurch
men, and another distinguished contemporary of a different character
was Philip Henry.
On reaching the grey tower of Magdalen we might have seen presiding
over that foundation, Dr. Thomas Goodwin, one of "the two atlasses and
patriarchs of Independency,"[254] as Wood calls him--already mentioned
in this work as a member of the Westminster Assembly--and we might have
met with two of the Fellows--John Howe[255] and Theophilus Gale--who,
by their increasing familiarity with Greek literature, were then laying
up ample stores for the construction of their great works, "The Living
Temple," and "The Court of the Gentiles."
Dr. Daniel Greenwood, whom Neal styles "a Profound Scholar and Divine,"
and whom Wood admits to have been "a severe and good governor," was
Principal of Brazen Nose, and Dr. John Conant was Rector of Exeter,
respecting whom Prideaux, amongst his numerous witticisms, observed,
"_Conanti nihil difficile_." Dr. Robert Harris, President of Trinity,
is described as skilful in Hebrew Chronology, Church History, and
Patristic Literature; and Dr. Edmund Staunton, President of Corpus, has
been called a Walking Concordance, on account of his minute knowledge
of the Holy Scriptures. Dr. Joshua Hoyle, Master of University College,
previous to his residence in Oxford, had been Divinity Professor
in Dublin, where he spent more than fifteen years in studying the
Popish controversy, and in answering the works of Bellarmine. Henry
Wilkinson--commonly styled Dean Harry--Principal of Magdalen Hall,
secured so much esteem from the Royalists, that at the Restoration they
were anxious to retain his services, but he refused to conform. He is
described by Wood as "courteous in speech and carriage, communicative
of his knowledge, generous and charitable to the poor; and so
public-spirited--that he always minded the common good more than his
own private concerns." Dr. John Wilkins, of Wadham, who married Oliver
Cromwell's sister, and was afterwards promoted to the mastership of
Trinity College, Cambridge, was almost equally eminent as a theologian,
a critic, a preacher, and a mathematician. The University of Oxford
at the same time counted in the number of her professors, Pocock, the
Orientalist; Seth Ward, the astronomer; Wallis, the geometrician; and
Lewis De Moulin, a learned foreigner: besides others who, though now
little known, were of high reputation in their own day. Owen said, in
1653, and, perhaps, with still more confidence, he might have said it
a few years afterwards, that the heads of Houses at that time merited
honour of the Church for candour, diligence, erudition, and politeness;
and that the University had never been surpassed by any society in the
world, in point of proper respect and esteem for piety, for manners,
orderly and Christian, and for a due regard to doctrines, arts,
languages, and science.[256] In addition to those now mentioned there
were other remarkable persons dwelling within the University precincts.
In the Bodleian library, Henry Stubbe held the office of second keeper.
A reader of all kinds of books, at home in ecclesiastical and profane
history, as well as in mathematical studies, he also spoke Greek and
Latin with much ease; and, according to his eulogists, could "talk on
various sciences with an eloquent tongue, or with his dexterous pen
write so as none could equal, answer, or come near him."[257] In a
recess of the library, Elias Ashmole often sat pouring over old coins,
for he had come to make a catalogue of the numismatic collection given
to the Bodleian by Archbishop Laud. Among the gownsmen were many
young scholars and divines rising into distinction, whose names were
afterwards to command respect in the republic of letters, or in the
offices of the Church: Wadham could point to Sprat, afterwards Bishop
of Rochester--Queen's to Compton, who became Bishop of London--Lincoln,
Magdalen, Hart Hall, and Corpus Christi all numbered amongst their
students future prelates. Sir Christopher Wren, at that time
accounted a prodigy of genius,[258] Dr. Whitby, the fierce but able
anti-Calvinist; Matthew Poole, the commentator; and Anthony Wood,
the antiquary and historian, were also educated at Oxford during the
Commonwealth.
[Sidenote: _Oxford Celebrities._]
It is interesting to find that John Evelyn visited Oxford on the 6th
of July, 1654, "the eve of the Act," and that he fully records in his
diary what he witnessed during his stay at the University.
There were exercises, he informs us, in the schools, and after dinner
the proctor opened the Act at St. Mary's. The prevaricators indulged
in drollery, and the doctors engaged in disputations. On Sunday, Dr.
French preached to the students, advising them to seek true wisdom, not
in books of philosophy, but in the Scriptures alone. The same day, Dr.
Owen delivered a sermon, in which he "gave Episcopacy a brush." The
following afternoon came long speeches from Proctors and Professors,
and the Vice-Chancellor; and these were followed by the bestowment of
diplomas (four in theology, and three in medicine), with the ancient
ceremonies of cap, ring, and kiss. The Presbyterian "Inceptor" had a
rub at the Episcopalians. A magnificent entertainment in Wadham Hall
closed the day, and the next morning a Latin sermon was delivered.
[Sidenote: _Evelyn's Visit._]
Barlow, afterwards Bishop of Lincoln, was librarian of the Bodleian,
and shewed his friend the following rarities:--An old English Bible,
"wherein the Eunuch mentioned to be baptized by Philip is called
the gelding;" the Acts of the Council of Basle, with its bulla, or
leaden affix; a MS. by Bede; the old Sarum ritual; a curious piece
of penmanship by a French lady; and an hieroglyphical table, painted
on asses' hide. But the thousand MSS., furnishing part of the library
built by Archbishop Laud, especially the Oriental ones, of all the
Oxford wonders which Evelyn saw, were most illustrious. In the closet
of the tower were exhibited Indian weapons, urns, and lamps, together
with the Koran, written on a sheet of calico, made up into a priest's
vesture or cope.
The Convocation House, the pleasant diarist goes on to inform us,
was finely wainscoted. The Divinity School had a gothic carved roof,
and the Schools of Physic and Anatomy were adorned with "the skin of
a jackal, a rarely-coloured jackatoo (or prodigious large parrot),
two hummingbirds, not much bigger than our humble bees," and other
curiosities. St. John's Library had two skeletons, and a store of
mathematical instruments--the gift of Archbishop Laud. New College
still wore its "ancient garb," and at Magdalen the library and chapel
were in pontifical order, with a double organ, and the altar turned
tablewise. Christ Church Library contained an Office of Henry VIII.,
brilliantly illuminated, the gift of Cardinal Wolsey. The physic garden
contained canes, olive trees, rhubarb, and the sensitive plant.
Wadham College had become a receptacle for curiosities under the
scientific Dr. Wilkins. Transparent apiaries,--built like castles and
palaces,--preserved honey without destroying the bees. A speaking
figure, with a concealed pipe in its mouth, dials, thermometer, a
"waywiser," a "monstrous magnet," and divers objects, artificial,
mathematical, and magical, crowded the Warden's lodgings and gallery.
The Royal Society had its cradle in the quaint rooms over the college
gateway. There met "the invisibles," as Boyle called them, "the
virtuosi," as they termed themselves:--eschewing politics and divinity,
and preferring to discourse upon "the circulation of the blood,"
"the valves of the veins," "the lymphatic vessels," "the Copernican
hypothesis," and kindred themes. We may add, that music-meetings
occurred in the house of William Ellis, late organist of St. John's,
"opposite to that place whereon the theatre was built." There George
Stradling, Fellow of All Souls, shewed himself "an admirable Lutinist;"
whilst Ralph Sheldon,--a Roman Catholic, living in Halywell, near
Oxford--was applauded for his "smooth way" of playing on the viol;
and Ellis the host himself presided at the organ, or performed upon a
virginal, or a counter-tenor violin. William Glexney, who had belonged
to a choir before the wars, is mentioned as a good player on the
bass viol; and Thomas James, of Magdalen, is named as holding weekly
meetings in his chamber, practising much on "the Theorbo lute."[259]
The University of Oxford, under the Protectorate, professed as much
loyalty to his Highness Oliver Cromwell, as it had ever done to his
Majesty King Charles. No addresses could be more deeply charged with
grateful expressions and ingenious compliments than those laid at
the feet of the great warrior and prince of the Commonwealth. Some
curious specimens of them are preserved in a little volume, entitled,
"Musarum Oxoniensium ΕΛΑΙΟΦΟΡΙΑ"--written to celebrate the peace which
Cromwell concluded with the Dutch in 1654. Owen takes the lead, and
for once invokes the muse. Zouch, Harmer, Bathurst, Busby, Locke,
Philip Henry, and others, dwell on the same subject in Greek, Latin,
or English verse; but what is most remarkable, South figures among
the most glowing eulogists--he who, thirty years afterwards, in the
pulpit of Westminster Abbey, denounced Cromwell as a bankrupt, beggarly
fellow, and ridiculed him as first entering the Parliament-house with a
threadbare, torn cloak, and a greasy hat, perhaps neither of them paid
for.[260]
We subjoin part of his eulogy, having first ventured to render it into
English rhyme:--
"Great ruler of the land and sea profound,
Thy praise the elements conspire to sound;
Thy genius deeper than the mighty deep,
Thy fame spreads wider than the billows sweep.
If thou ascend thy chariot, either pole
Bears up the wheels which still triumphant roll.
Thy martial scabbard, hanging by thy side,
Ensheaths thy country's power, and life, and pride.
'Tis thine alone to rule the raging main,
And bind proud Neptune in thy sovereign chain.
Thou bravest victor, with triumphant hand,
Scatt'rest thy trophies over sea and land.
In gentlest, noblest deeds, thy days abound,
The peaceful olive binds thy honours round.
Batavia's realm, rejoicing in thy smile,
Now shares the friendship of our British isle;
That isle, encircled by its ocean guard,
And by the victories of thy peerless sword."
[Sidenote: _Walton's Polyglott._]
Before leaving Oxford, notice should be taken of a learned work
published during the Commonwealth, and in which Oxford scholars took
a principal part. A prospectus for the publication of "Walton's
Polyglott" appeared in 1652; the publication was completed in 1658,
having occupied four years. Pocock, the professor of Hebrew and
Arabic, was one of Walton's principal helpers. Walton, himself--a
Cambridge man, who had fled to Oxford during the wars, and lost
all his preferments by the changes of the times,--employed his
leisure from public duties by the indefatigable toil which has
immortalized his name. Other ejected Episcopalians shared prominently
in the undertaking,[261] and their names are found attached to the
prospectus; but perhaps no one yielded so much literary assistance
as did Professor Pocock. The credit of the enterprise and of its
admirable accomplishment belongs to the Episcopalians,--with whom
Pocock, although permitted to hold office at Oxford under the reign
of Independency, was identified. In the hour of their humiliation
they achieved what deserves the gratitude and praise of posterity;
and, at the same time, it is much to the honour of Cromwell that he
patronized and assisted them in their work--notwithstanding they were
his political antagonists, and the work itself upon which they were
engaged crossed the prejudices of some of his favourite theologians.
The duty on the paper which was employed in the printing of the volumes
was, through the influence of the Protector,[262] remitted by an order
of the Council of State; and the same favour was granted to Bee, the
editor of the "Critici Sacri." This favour induced Castell, the author
of the "Heptaglott Lexicon," to seek the like indulgence. That work,
however, was not published until after the Restoration.
[Sidenote: _Owen's Criticism._]
When Walton's _Magnum Opus_ left the press,[263] it awakened great
interest in the critical world. The science which has been so much
advanced by the discoveries of a Mill, a Griesbach, and a Tischendorf,
was then only in its infancy. Jealously watched by the old-fashioned
students of Hebrew and Greek, who feared injury to the authority of the
Bible and the cause of religion, from any reflection on the perfect
integrity of the _textus receptus_, no wonder that "the voluminous
bulk of various lections as nakedly exhibited"--and likely, it was
thought, "to beget scruples and doubts in the minds of men"--excited
alarm in some who were deeply anxious for the welfare of the Church.
Dr. Owen was of this number, and his are the words just quoted. Zealous
alike for the purity of the text, and the authority of the points, he
followed Buxtorf and Glassius; and looked upon Capellus and Grotius
as dangerous innovators. He went so far as to say: "What use hath
been made and is as yet made, in the world, of this supposition, that
corruptions have befallen the originals of the Scripture, which those
various lections at first view seem to intimate, I need not declare. It
is in brief the foundation of Mahometism, the chiefest and principal
prop of Popery, the only pretence of fanatical anti-scripturists, and
the root of much hidden Atheism in the world."[264] This is a curious
passage in the history of literature. That so learned and liberal
a man as Dr. Owen should have talked thus, may in our time provoke a
smile from tyros in criticism. But he who wrote after this fashion
must be judged by the state of things existing in his own time, not
by the state of things at present. Owen, although as an Independent
he would be deemed a revolutionist, really was in theology, and in
some ecclesiastical respects likewise, a very decided Conservative.
Zealous for what he counted reform, he dreaded removing old landmarks.
Let him have the credit as well as the reproach of Conservatism. In
his treatise on the integrity and purity of the Scripture text--from
which the above passage is extracted--he animadverted upon the
Polyglott, its prolegomena and appendix. The essay shews that he was
more of a theologian than a critic--a fact of which he seems to have
been conscious himself. It would have been better for his fame if he
had not touched the subject: and most of his admirers will regret
that, so far, he can be quoted as one of a class, too numerous still,
who, trembling without cause for the ark of God, set themselves in
opposition to the progress of Biblical enquiry. Without attempting to
defend the Vice-Chancellor in this matter, we may add, that the tone
of his criticisms is respectful and modest, and will bear honourable
comparison with other controversial productions of that age.[265]
Pocock answered Owen with critical learning, such as Owen had not at
his command, and with a force of reasoning which Owen could not repel;
but with a contempt and violence which Owen had done nothing to provoke.
To pass from Oxford to Cambridge, of which it has been said--and it
is equally true of the sister University--that "separated as yet from
the capital of the kingdom by a tedious horse journey of two days, and
destitute of any better conveyance for letters than its well-known
carrier," it was "still one of the great centres of the literature, the
science, the talent, and, unhappily also, the religious strife of the
nation."[266]
The Engagement was pressed upon the Masters and Fellows. The majority
were Presbyterians, with some Episcopalians who, through private
influence, had retained office without subscribing the Covenant.
Opposed in almost equal degrees to the new test, both parties found
their position and emoluments in immediate jeopardy. At first the
enforcement was gentle, but in June, 1650, a committee received
authority to examine those who had not taken the oath, and to fill
up vacancies caused by their ejection. Yet, before the end of the
month, Cromwell being at Cambridge, received the Vice-Chancellor and
others, to whom he gave an assurance that there should be no further
proceedings against non-subscribers, for he had used his influence with
Parliament to put a stop to them.[267] Probably that influence checked
the intended severity; for, during the next twelve months, persons
who did not submit to the Engagement, were allowed to retain their
fellowships. For a time friendly intercession prevailed: learning,
piety, and social virtue shielded Episcopalian delinquents. It was a
season of great suspense and excitement. Letters passed on the subject
between Cambridge men and their distant friends. The former discussed
University affairs in quadrangles, halls, and chambers, and in their
walks by the banks of the Cam. Fellows of different parties were
narrowly watched. Staunch Episcopalians were anxious to see whether
boasters about decision would be true to their principles; and sad
discouragement came from men who kept their fellowships by at last
taking the oath, after having stoutly denied that they would ever do
so. This we learn from the letters of Sancroft, whose conscientiousness
then in his refusal of the Engagement--and afterwards at a still more
critical period of his life as a non-juror--every one ought to honour.
His own case illustrates in part what has been just remarked, inasmuch
as friendly interference deferred his ejectment for a season. "The
Committee," he writes to his brother, November the 17th, 1650, "sat
last week here, and summoned some of St. John's to appear at London;
but I heard nothing of them. Some would persuade me, and I am sometimes
prone to believe it, that I have some secret friend who doth me good
offices, though I know it not." When danger became imminent, and the
Committee sat at the "Bear" and summoned Sancroft, he would not go;--he
playfully describes himself as "trussing up his baggage, _i.e._, a viol
wrapped in a dozen flannel napkins, two towels and two table-cloths,
two old shirts, and a carpet; also a little box with his hanging watch;
also an alarum with lines and weights." He was expelled in July.[268]
[Sidenote: _Cambridge University._]
It is somewhat startling, amidst this story of anxieties, ejections,
and impoverishments for conscience' sake, to turn to the oration
delivered by young Isaac Barrow, on Commencement-day, the following
year, 1651, and to hear him speaking thus:--"If it be true, as rumour
tells, that you have so tired of all substantial fare as to nauseate
the banquet of eloquence and the feast of sound philosophy--that
nothing has for you any relish except painted comfits and unmeaning
trifles--that not even wisdom will please you, unless without its
own peculiar flavour; nor truth, unless seasoned with a jest; nor
reason, unless soaked in fun; then in an unlucky hour have I been
assigned as your purveyor, neither born nor bred to such a frivolous
confectionary. The insatiable appetite of laughter keeps itself within
no bounds. Have you crowded to this place for the purpose of listening
and studying, and making progress; or only for the sake of laughing
at this thing, and making a jest of that other? As if folly herself
kept court amongst us--as if here were the market-place and universal
emporium of nonsense, you drink in with greedy ears jibes, and squibs,
and ribaldry, and then, when well considered and improved, set them
all a-circulating again. There is nothing so remote from levity which
you do not instantly--such is your alchemy--transmute into mirth and
absurdity. And let a discourse be such as to move no laughter, nothing
else will please--neither dignity, nor gravity, nor solidity--neither
strength, nor point, nor polish."[269]
One cannot suppose that this description applies to the Fellows or
older members. But it must have been true of undergraduates and other
young men. They--unless Barrow has gone beyond all bounds in his
declamation--were a very noisy, boisterous, laughter-loving set.
In truth, undergraduates were then what undergraduates have been
ever since, full of fun, which at times leaped up in unseemly forms.
Cambridge and Oxford commemorations, in the middle of the seventeenth
century, were no contrasts to Cambridge and Oxford commemorations in
the nineteenth. On reading Barrow's grandiloquent speech, it is easy
to fancy shouts rolling round the hall in wit and humour--not unlike
what our newspapers report of University festivals in our own time.
And although Heads of houses and Fellows would decorously behave
themselves on those occasions--from official prudence no less than from
Puritanical propriety--let it not be supposed that the Puritans were
men who never laughed and joked; for it is remarkable how often in
their memoirs we find allusions to the "facetiousness" of persons, who,
judged of from their portraits, were as solemn as the grave.
Even after the University had, in some good measure, been brought
within the terms of the Engagement, military visitors seem to have
given trouble; for Oliver Cromwell caused the following order to be
posted up at head quarters, addressed to all under his command, and
to all whom it might concern:--"These are to charge and require you
upon sight hereof not to quarter any officers or soldiers in any of
the colleges, halls, or other houses belonging to the University of
Cambridge, nor to offer any injury or violence to any of the students
or members of any of the colleges or houses of the said University, as
you shall answer the contrary at your peril. Given under my hand and
seal the first of July, 1652."[270]
[Sidenote: _Simpson--Dell._]
The following year saw troublers of the peace far worse than any of
Cromwell's troopers. Sydrach Simpson, one of the five brethren of the
Westminster Assembly, who had been appointed Master of Pembroke Hall,
in the room of Mr. Vines--a Presbyterian ejected for refusing the
Engagement--had, at the commemoration of 1653, defended the University.
He had said, in his oration, that they who had endeavoured to pull
down schools were men formed to be enemies of religion, like Julian
the Apostate--that all Divinity is swaddled in human learning--that
Paul was brought up at the feet of Gamaliel--that if the Spirit
taught without means, men might as well be without ordinances as
colleges--that knowledge is to be obtained not by inspiration, but
study--that arts and tongues are the cups in which God drinks to
us. After this fashion--in phraseology often very peculiar and yet
expressing considerable wisdom--the Independent Master of Pembroke
had appeared in defence of his University. Thereby he incurred the
ire of William Dell,[271] Master of Caius--whose conduct in the army
excited the displeasure of Richard Baxter, and who, for his very
broad advocacy of toleration, incurred no small reproach from other
Presbyterians. His opinions as to the manner of supporting religion
approached much nearer to those of modern voluntaries than did the
opinions of many persons at that time; but they were coupled with views
of human learning, an educated ministry, and collegiate institutions,
such as happily most modern voluntaries would disallow. Entertaining
no hostility to learning on its own account, Dell protested against
it as a qualification for instructing men in Christianity. He denied
that it assisted in the understanding of Scripture. He maintained that
the grace of God, and an inward experience of religion, were alone
requisite for saving souls.[272] And the irrational declaration of this
singular individual (who, however, it is only just to say, declared
his willingness to sacrifice his office in support of his views) was
coupled with the most vehement denunciation of University statutes,
school divinity, and academic dress--of caps and scarlet robes, gloves,
rings, kisses, doctrinal dinners, and music--and of the Cambridge
"prevaricator," so like, he said, to the Oxford "_Terræ filius_."
Diplomas he lightly esteemed, and drew an irreverent comparison and
contrast between school degrees and Christ's degrees--meaning by the
latter our Lord's sonship, unction, victory over temptation, teaching
of the Word, and the like; in which respects Christians are to be
conformed to their Master, taking their degrees in the school of
spiritual discipleship.[273] In connection with Dell's attack upon
University studies may be mentioned the publications of John Webster,
in 1653, entitled "The Saint's Guide," and "Academiarum Examen," works
in which the author enforced "the same principles as were advocated
by Dell," and that "not without some shrewdness and ability." The
"Examen" was answered by two Oxford men, Wilkins and Ward. Webster
had been educated at Cambridge, and he, together with William Erbery,
a Baptist preacher of considerable talents, held a public discussion
in the October of 1653, "at a church in Lombard-street, against the
establishment of the Universities and the maintenance of a national
clergy."[274]
[Sidenote: _Akehurst._]
Excitement and habits of free speech would produce a good deal
of extravagant talk in the University, and reports--sometimes
inaccurate--would reach the ears of persons in authority. Cromwell
heard that blasphemy and Atheism were uttered at Cambridge. He made
enquiries. Evidence on the point against a person named Akehurst,
vice-master of Trinity, having been collected by Dr. Lazarus Seaman and
Dr. John Arrowsmith, they reported the facts to his Highness.[275] But
a friend, in defence, wrote the following remarkable letter:--
"May it please your Highness--To receive my report concerning Mr.
Akehurst, vice-master of Trinity-college, who is accused before thee
of Atheism and blasphemy, &c. Mr. Akehurst is a man known to myself,
who hath been of late in great troubles both of body and mind, and
his ease and refreshment hath not been comparable to the misery he hath
endured, so that my very soul hath mourned over him. And what will not
a man say sometimes in the bitterness and anguish of his spirit, when
the arrows of the Almighty stick fast in his sides, especially when the
torment of his mind hath been such sometimes, that he could give no
account whence it proceeded, nor whither it tended, it being occasioned
by no foregoing thoughts, which might disturb his soul? Mr. Akehurst is
one whose soul cannot be satisfied with blind tradition in the things
of God, and therefore has travailed to find out a reason of His ways by
reading, meditation, by discourse with men; and finding them weak and
insufficient, and sometimes not favouring their own discourse, hath in
the anguish of his spirit reproached their shortness, parrot-language,
in such expressions as seem to reflect upon God, whereas it might be
but a charging of their apprehensions, misconceptions, scantness,
unsavouriness, &c. I am persuaded that whatsoever proceeded from Mr.
Akehurst, was not to wound or weaken the true faith of any; but an
earnest desire to receive satisfaction himself, and withal to shake
all presumptuous and careless faith, which produced nothing; not to
withdraw any from God, but settle himself and others on more rational
foundations. All the course of his life, of late, hath been a perpetual
breathing after complete satisfaction, that he might justify God in all
his proceedings; so that he hath been wholly careless of his credit,
if so be any whereof he might find rest to his soul. These things have
I written, not that I would excuse any levity of spirit, or lavishness
of humour, which sometimes probably might possess him; but all things
being considered, the bruised reed may not be broken, nor the smoking
flax quenched. The Lord direct thy Highness to steer betwixt, and to
judge aright. Thus have I declared my mind. Let not my folly in this
address, if there be any, be prejudicial to another; for this paper
proceeded from me alone.
"My Lord, I call to witness the living God, that I desire, not that any
contempt of his Majesty may not pass unreproved, or any slighting of
his truths, but that there may be a due balancing of things, that the
glory of God may suffer on no hand; and therefore have I writ with much
fear, lest I should be found a liar for either party. The Lord make you
as wise as Solomon!"[276]
[Sidenote: _Evelyn at Cambridge._]
John Evelyn, whom we have seen at Oxford, also visited Cambridge,
and has left us notes of the state in which he found the University.
He describes St. John's as being an edifice well built of brick, and
having the best library of any of the colleges, with ornaments of
_pietra commessa_ (marble inlaid of various colours), and containing
amongst its curiosities "a vast old song book" and other MSS., and
a portrait of Archbishop Williams. Trinity was renowned for its
quadrangle, which our diarist, however, considered inferior to that of
Christ Church, Oxford, although he acknowledged that the fountain was
graceful, and that the chapel and library were fair: the illuminated
MSS. and the other antiquities greatly interested the Royalist visitor.
King's College Chapel, with its groined stone roof, answered his
expectation. Clare Hall, of "new and noble design," but "not finished;"
Peter House having "a delicate chapel;" the fine college of Sidney;
Catherine Hall, "a mean structure;" Emanuel, a "zealous house;" Jesus
College, "one of the best built, but in a melancholy situation; and"
Christ's College, the modern part, of "exact architecture," are all
noticed: but Cambridge evidently was eclipsed in Evelyn's estimation
by the glories of his own Alma Mater. He pronounces the schools
"despicable," the public library "mean:" but he has a word of praise
for the market-place of the town, and for "old Hobson, the pleasant
carrier's beneficence of a fountain."[277]
[Sidenote: _Presbyterians in the University._]
After what has been said of John Dell, no one can form a favourable
idea of the state of Caius College under his administration. But other
heads of Houses were persons of a very different stamp. Dr. Thomas
Hill, master of Trinity, and Dr. John Arrowsmith, master of St. John's,
were both old-fashioned Puritans. Both were decidedly Presbyterian.
Both were Evangelical and devout, and both, fired with religious zeal,
were anxious for the spiritual welfare of the University. Neither of
them, perhaps, possessed much scholarship or any refinement of taste,
and their quaint writings, long since forgotten, seem to be such as
the most intense admirers of quaintness could hardly read now-a-days
with any interest--yet they alike encouraged theological studies, and
valued learning as an indispensable pre-requisite for a good Divine.
Dr. Lazarus Seaman, also a Presbyterian--who had succeeded Dr. Cosin
as master of Peter House--appears from Wood's testimony to have been
skilled in Oriental languages, in casuistry, and in the history of
ecclesiastical controversies. He had even won favour from Charles I.,
when attending him in the Isle of Wight, as one of the Parliamentary
Commissioners. Dr. Tuckney, another Presbyterian--who had succeeded Dr.
Holdsworth in the mastership of Emanuel, and afterwards Dr. Arrowsmith
in the mastership of St. John's--when exhorted to have regard to
the godly in his elections, replied, with a dash of humour--"No one
should have greater regard to the truly godly than himself, but he was
determined to choose none but scholars; adding, they may deceive me in
their godliness, they cannot in their scholarship."[278] The number of
Presbyterians at Cambridge, as compared with Oxford, is accounted for
by the fact that the change at Cambridge occurred at the beginning of
the wars, when the Presbyterians were in power, and that the change at
Oxford took place at the end of the wars, when the Independents were in
the ascendant. Under the circumstances, Oxford would naturally be more
of an Independent, and Cambridge more of a Presbyterian University.
Dr. Minshall, a Conformist at the Restoration--chosen, according to the
statutes, master of Sidney, on the death of Dr. Ward--held that post
for life with a high reputation. Dr. Simpson, as master of Pembroke,
acquitted himself with a love of learning, and a zeal for godliness
corresponding with his oration at the commencement of 1653; he died in
1658 with joy befitting his holy life.
The college presidents at Cambridge during the Commonwealth best known
to fame are Witchcot, Lightfoot, and Cudworth.
[Sidenote: _Witchcot--Lightfoot._]
On the ejection of Dr. Collins--who would not take the Engagement--Dr.
Witchcot became provost of King's. Neither a Presbyterian, nor an
Independent, he held Episcopal views, with extreme moderation; and
afterwards conformed to the Church of the Restoration, as he did to
the Church of the Commonwealth. He had never sworn to the Covenant;
he probably looked upon the Engagement simply as a bond of political
submission; and on the whole, he seems to have belonged to the class
of persons who do not hold the Divine right of any particular form
of ecclesiastical government, but decide that question upon grounds
of expediency;--adopting what they consider to be the best practical
method for propagating the principles and promoting the morals of
Christianity. The few posthumous publications of this Divine, collected
by his admirers, are not sufficient to support his fame, which arose no
doubt from his preaching and conversation, his candour and catholicity,
his amiableness and benevolence. Witchcot's reputation is a striking
example of the power of personal influence. "He had great credit," says
Burnet, writing many years afterwards, "with some that had been eminent
in the late times, but made all the use he could of it to protect
good men of all persuasions. He was much for liberty of conscience;
and being disgusted with the dry, systematical way of those times,
he studied to raise those who conversed with him to a nobler set of
thoughts, and to consider religion as a seed of a deiform nature (to
use one of his own phrases). In order to this he set young students
much on reading the ancient philosophers, chiefly Plato, Tully, and
Plotinus; and on considering the Christian religion as a doctrine sent
from God, both to elevate and sweeten human nature, in which he was a
great example, as well as a wise and kind instructor."[279] A man must
have had some extraordinary qualities to produce such influence, and
to create such a reputation, leaving them behind for years afterwards
surrounded by such a lustrous halo.
Dr. Brownrigg had been ejected from Catherine Hall as a non-Covenanter,
and Dr. Spurstow, who had succeeded him there, was subsequently
dismissed for refusing to take the Engagement.[280] The vacancy thus
occasioned was supplied by the appointment to it of Dr. Lightfoot.
Lightfoot, who has been already mentioned as one of the Assembly of
Divines, surpassed both his predecessors at Catherine Hall in depth
of learning and literary repute. Whilst his Erastian opinions would
remove difficulties out of the way of his submission to the changes
which occurred in the government of the Church and the University--his
extraordinary attainments as a Rabbinical scholar, and the wide range
of his general knowledge, eminently fitted him for the high scholastic
position which he attained at Cambridge. Perhaps no other Englishman
ever possessed such a consummate acquaintance with the whole range
of Hebrew and Biblical literature, so far as it existed in his own
time; and although his works bear a somewhat varied and fragmentary
appearance, and include questions of chronology, as well as enquiries
into texts and versions, comments and paraphrases--they all relate
more or less to that which was the great object of his life--a harmony
of the four Evangelists, and the elucidation of the sacred narrative
from the writings of the Rabbis. We are not aware of any other writer
who has done so much in the same way to aid the study of the New
Testament.[281]
The brilliant reputation of Dr. Cudworth--who succeeded the
Episcopalian Dr. Pask--in the mastership of Clare Hall, and who
afterwards held the mastership of Christ's college, is almost enough,
in some respects, to eclipse the lustre of the other two. Like his
contemporary, Lightfoot, he addicted himself much to the study of
Hebrew antiquities, having been in the year 1645 chosen Regius
Professor of Hebrew; and, also like both Lightfoot and Witchcot,
he entertained very broad views of ecclesiastical polity; but his
unrivalled acquaintance with Plato and the Platonists, and with the
Alexandrian philosophers and fathers, was a peculiar distinction which
has made him a sign and a wonder ever since. His "Intellectual System"
is a marvel in literature. Yet, strange to say, though it be the most
patient sifting Atheism ever received, this book from its candour,
and its honest scrutiny into everything which can be advanced against
the fundamental truth of all religion, brought upon the author the
most cruel and absurd attacks--attacks which proceeded so far that he
was even charged with holding the very Atheism which his prodigious
powers and resources had been employed to overturn. This unrighteous
controversy however, is, after all, but a specimen of the blinding fury
which even in our own day inspires certain persons--as ignorant as they
are honest--in their championship of orthodoxy, and in their suspicion
of error. It also illustrates the prejudice and malignity often
existing in the hearts of bigots against persons, who with the deepest
convictions of truth, combine a candid disposition, a tolerant temper,
and a charitable judgment of their adversaries.
[Sidenote: _Cudworth--Patrick--More--Smith._]
At the same time there existed at Cambridge a noted band, including
men of great learning, intellect, and piety--who sympathized with
Lightfoot, Witchcot, and Cudworth--especially with the last two, in
their more select studies, and in their most generous sentiments.
Simon Patrick, Fellow of Queen's, was a man whom the turn of his
mind--though more devout and practical than speculative--did not
prevent from appreciating and admiring the endowments and culture of
his more gifted friends. Henry More--the Platonist and mystic, and a
disciple of Descartes, with his "Song of the Soul," and his "Conjectura
Cabalistica"--written at the request of a Quaker--full of admiration
for Pythagoras--remained Fellow and Tutor in Christ's college, although
he was offered the mastership of that foundation before it fell to
the lot of Cudworth. But in the same direction, John Smith, fellow of
Queen's, went far beyond Simon Patrick and Henry More--combining as he
did much of the practical piety of the first, with all the speculative
genius of the second. His sermons are extraordinary productions, full
of deep and comprehensive thought; which, whilst tinged with mysticism,
are truly Evangelical, and eminently adapted to build up a holy life.
Burnet remarks respecting the individuals whom we have named, "All
these, and those who were formed under them, studied to examine further
into the nature of things than had been done formerly. They declared
against superstition on the one hand, and enthusiasm on the other.
They loved the constitution of the Church, and the Liturgy, and could
well live under them. But they did not think it unlawful to live under
another form. They wished that things might have been carried with
more moderation. And they continued to keep a good correspondence
with those who had differed from them in opinion, and allowed a great
freedom both in philosophy and in divinity. From whence they were
called men of latitude, and upon this, men of narrower thoughts and
fiercer tempers fastened upon them the name of Latitudinarians. They
read Episcopius much; and the making out the reasons of things being a
main part of their studies--their enemies called them Socinians. They
were all very zealous against Popery. And so, they becoming soon very
considerable, the Papists set themselves against them to decry them as
Atheists, Deists, or at best Socinians."[282]
It is curious to find such men in the very heart of a Puritan age.
They were founders of a new order of religious thought, new, at least,
in reference to the mental habits in general of that period. They did
not assail Puritanism, nor, indeed, assume an attitude of opposition
to other good men of any class--they preferred to build up rather
than to pull down, to heal rather than to wound; but certainly their
sympathies did not run in Puritan lines. They appreciated the eminent
piety of many contemporaries of that school, and they lived with them
upon terms of friendship; but, for their own part, they maintained
broader views of theology than did their brethren. Their interest in
the study of Plato and Plotinus, and their elevation of what is moral
over what is merely intellectual gave to their method of enquiry, and
to the conclusions which they reached, a certain cast, which plainly
distinguished them from the kind of teaching found in the Westminster
Confession, and in the standard works of the Puritan Divines.
[Sidenote: _Cambridge Studies._]
Differences have always obtained in the mode of contemplating
Christianity, according with various types of mind and with various
descriptions of culture and circumstances. Aristotelian and Platonic
forms of thought, so obvious in theological history, are amongst its
common facts; and when we recollect that such forms are the inevitable
consequences of original varieties in the intellectual nature of
mankind, they appear also to belong to its greatest mysteries.
Occasionally overlooked, even by philosophers, and habitually forgotten
by controversialists, the remembrance of them is so important, that
if forgotten, the changes and collisions which occur in the progress
of theological enquiry--whether in primitive, mediæval, or modern
times--must remain unintelligible. And the spectacle of the logical
dogmatist on the one hand, and the sentimental mystic on the other,
deriving different impressions from the same object--and then looking
each other in the face, with expressions of marvellous surprise,
that they cannot both see one and the same thing in one and the same
way--can never be explained by those who do not keep before them the
fact just noticed. As there were different ineradicable idiosyncracies
in Clement and Tertullian, in Origen and Augustine, in Bernard and
Abelard, in Bonaventura and Thomas Aquinas, in John Tauler and John
Calvin--so there were idiosyncracies equally ineradicable in John Smith
and John Owen, in Ralph Cudworth and in Richard Baxter. The influence
of circumstances in reference to the Cambridge school coincided with
the intellectual character of the members, and contributed to the
development of its theological peculiarities. Early education, the
stimulus derived from other minds, in some respects very different,
and the reactions consequent upon the unfolding of tendencies to
their furthest extreme, are all to be reckoned amongst the factors of
religious opinion. The theology of the men to whom we now refer was
partly the result of that training which they had received in Greek
philosophy, and which had formed part of the Cambridge system in their
early days[283]; and of that study of the Greek fathers, which had
been promoted, perhaps, by the example of Andrewes; partly, also,
it was a reaction both against the stiff ritualism of the Laudian
party, and against the rigid and severe doctrinalism of the Puritans.
A good example of what constituted the pith of the teaching which we
have briefly noticed, occurs in an introduction to "Smith's Select
Discourses," written by his friend, Dr. John Worthington.[284]
[Sidenote: _Cambridge Theology._]
Godliness he explains as signifying "infinitely more than a power to
dispute with heat and vehemency about some opinions, or to discourse
volubly about some matters in religion, and in such forms of words
as are taking with the weak and unskilful; more than a power to pray
without a form of words; for these and the like may be, and frequently
are done by the formal and unspiritual Christian; more than a power to
deny themselves in some things that are easy to part with, and do not
much cross their inclinations, their self-will, their corrupt designs
and interests, nor prejudice their dear and more beloved lusts and
pleasures, their profitable and advantageous sins; and more than a
power to observe some lesser and easier commands, or to perform an
outward obedience arising out of slavish fear, void of inward life and
love, and a complacency in the law of God." And further, he dwells
with delight on "the mighty acts and noble achievements of the more
excellent, though less ostentatious Christians, who, through faith in
the goodness and power of God, have been 'enabled to do all things
through Christ, knowing both how to abound, and how to be abased;'
enabled to overcome the world without them, and the love of the world
within them; enabled to overcome themselves--and for a man 'to rule
his own spirit' is a greater instance of power and valour than 'to
take a city,' as Solomon judgeth;--enabled to resist the powers of
darkness, and to quit themselves like men and good soldiers of Jesus
Christ--giving many signal overthrows to those lusts that war against
their souls, and to the mightiest and strongest of them, the sons
of Anak; and by engaging in the hardest services of this spiritual
warfare, wherein the Pharisaical boasters dare not follow them, they
shew that there is a spirit of power in them, and that they can do more
than others."[285]
Yet, whilst we are quite disposed to do justice to these admirable
individuals, we cannot but discover in the later effects of their
example some things which must be exceedingly deplored. Their breadth
of charity was followed by an amount of latitudinarianism with which
they themselves were not chargeable. And their attempts to determine
and establish the higher position of what is moral, in comparison
with what is intellectual in Church life and in Church creeds, led
ultimately to an inexcusable neglect of the distinctive doctrines of
Christianity. The profitableness of virtue, and the reasonableness
of religion, became the all-absorbing themes. Hard, dry Rationalism,
bearing a Christian name, with never-ending discussions on evidences,
appears throughout the first half of the eighteenth century as
a development of the weak side of the Cambridge divinity in the
seventeenth.
[Sidenote: _Cambridge and Oxford Compared._]
Between this and the Oxford theology of the Commonwealth period, a
remarkable contrast presents itself. The most distinguished Oxford
Divines then were Owen and Goodwin. Howe--who in genius and feeling
was far less remote than they were from Cudworth and Smith, and who
possessed a still nobler intellect, and also presented a life of still
rarer beauty than either of his fellow Independents--was but a young
man at the time of which we speak, and could exercise no such influence
as belonged to the Dean of Christ Church and the President of Magdalen.
The theology of these two Divines was Puritan to the core, and whilst
betraying Puritan defects, it exhibited, in a high degree, Puritan
excellencies. It sometimes assigned to a really subordinate theory the
place belonging to a supremely important fact; it failed to distinguish
adequately between Divine premises and human inferences; also it was
deficient in sympathy with pure thought, spiritual desire, and honest
endeavours after goodness beyond its own circle; and it lacked that
breadth of sympathy which was cultivated by the Cambridge worthies,
which redounded so much to their honour. But then let it be remembered,
that on the part of the Oxford Puritans there existed a loyalty to
that which is peculiar, and characteristic in the Gospel of Christ--a
loyalty which redeemed their worst weaknesses. They loved the Gospel
as a message of free mercy to the children of Adam, as a revelation
of redeeming grace through the mystery of the cross; and they dwelt
largely, emphatically, and in a way not to be misunderstood, upon what
makes the New Testament a book of life and joy to conscience-stricken
men. And the veins of gold running through their works rendered them
a mine of wealth a hundred years afterwards, when people impoverished
by Rationalism flocked to it as to a spiritual California. Indeed, the
Methodism ultimately fixed outside the establishment by Whitefield and
the two Wesleys--who were all three nurtured at Oxford--was largely
dug out of Puritan beds of Christian ore. In the largest measure, and
in the directest way, this was the case with Whitefield's theology.
With respect to John Wesley, although Oxford Puritanism was not without
influence upon his mind, yet that influence was less direct than it
seems to have been in the history of his Calvinistic friend, and in
Wesley's case it was certainly mixed with powerful ingredients which
were derived from Cambridge sources. The school of Divines just noticed
stood high in his estimation,[286] and he was affected by them not only
through the perusal of their writings, but likewise through the medium
of an eminent disciple of theirs--William Law, who was one of Wesley's
personal friends.
Still more decidedly the Evangelicalism of the last century fostered
within the establishment by Romaine, and Berridge, and Venn, was
derived from the influence of Owen and his companions; and thus
defects attaching to the theology which had sprung up at Cambridge
were supplied by the theology which had been cherished and promoted
at Oxford. Too long these schools of thought have stood apart. Is not
the time come for uniting evangelical faith and zeal, as decided and
fervent as were those of Owen and Goodwin, with a sympathy for all
truth--with a recognition of the relations of Christianity to the
entire universe of thought--with a catholic charity in judging other
men--and with an estimate of the supremacy of spiritual goodness, in no
respect less broad, but in every respect more healthy than that which
prevailed in some of the colleges within the University of Cambridge
two hundred years ago?
We shall terminate, without endeavouring to complete the list of
Cambridge notabilities, by simply mentioning Edward Stillingfleet,
Fellow of St. John's, afterwards Bishop of Worcester; David Clarkson,
Fellow of Clare, an eminent Nonconformist Divine; John Tillotson,
who succeeded Clarkson in his Fellowship, and at last attained the
Primacy; Francis Holcroft, another Fellow on the same foundation,
occupying, along with Tillotson, a chamber over the college gate--and
distinguished alike by his attainments and by his sufferings for
conscience' sake; John Ray, the well-known naturalist, Fellow of
Trinity; and William Cave, the author of "Primitive Christianity," who
graduated in the year 1656, and who died Canon of Windsor.
[Sidenote: _University of Durham._]
A new University was attempted. The Grand Jury of the county of Durham,
at the summer assizes in the year 1650, presented a petition to
Parliament, praying that lands of the Dean and Chapter not then sold
might be granted for founding a college of students in that city. After
the winter assizes of 1651-2, another petition from the Grand Jury was
dispatched to Westminster, pressing the subject upon the attention
of the legislature. The project went to sleep a while; and then, in
the year 1656, Oliver Cromwell--who had from the first favoured the
plan, in spite of characteristic remonstrances from George Fox--issued
an ordinance for a collegiate establishment in the Palatinate. The
credit of the suggestion is due to gentlemen of the county: the merit
of proceeding to carry it into effect to the Lord Protector. Lambert,
Montague, and Rouse--a Committee of his Highness's council--had
recommended the scheme as of great advantage to the northern parts of
England, both in reference to promoting the preaching of the Gospel,
and the wise education of young men; and in accordance with the
recommendation, the ordinance ordained and appointed the institution
under the name of the Master or Provost, Fellows and Scholars of the
College in Durham, of the foundation of Oliver, Lord Protector of the
Commonwealth. It was to occupy the site of the Deanery, Prebendal
houses, Cathedral Church, and Castle, and to continue a College for
ever. The charter authorized one Provost, two Preachers or senior
Fellows, and twelve other Fellows--four to be Professors, four to be
Tutors, four to be Schoolmasters. Moreover, it created twenty-four
scholarships. Philip Hunton was nominated Provost, and was to receive
above £200 per annum out of the rich Rectory of Sedgefield, in the
Bishopric of Durham, besides holding the living of Westbury, in
Wilts, whence he was ejected in 1662. A concise treatise, "Concerning
Monarchy," published by this person in the year 1643, entitles him,
in the estimation of some, to be considered a worthy precursor of
Sidney and Locke--of which, at least, this proof appears, that the
book was burnt in the school quadrangle of Oxford in 1683.[287]
To William Spinage, Fellow of Exeter, Oxford--"a good Divine," "a
great philosopher and disputant," and "a man of much integrity and
zeal"--and to Joseph Hill, Fellow of Magdalen, Cambridge--a popular
tutor, and a zealous Proctor--were assigned the positions of first
Preachers or senior Fellows. Thomas Vaughan, John Kister, Robert Wood,
and John Peachil--all University graduates--were to be the first four
Professors. Nathaniel Vincent--pronounced by Wood a "considerable
scholar," described by Calamy as serious, humble, godly, of sober
principles, and great zeal and diligence, and known as the author
of several practical treatises--was appointed one of the first four
Schoolmasters.[288]
The Cathedral Church, Churchyard, and Free School, with the unsold
estates of the Dean and Chapter, and an annual revenue, in addition, of
£900 out of certain manors, rectories, and impropriations, constituted
the endowment. Moreover, the library of books, the manuscripts, and
the mathematical and other instruments belonging to the Cathedral were
made over to the same institution. The Provost, Fellows, and Scholars
were to be a Corporation for purchasing and holding property, having a
common seal, and to be governed by laws made by the Lord Protector and
his Council. The ordinance gives a long list of visitors, including Sir
Thomas Widdrington, Speaker of the House of Commons, Lords Fairfax,
Grey, Wharton, and Falconbridge, Sir Henry Vane, and Sir Arthur
Haselrig. Amongst the clerical visitors occur the names of the eminent
Edward Bowles of York, and of Richard Gilpin--a name of great honour in
the north. Like Bernard Gilpin, who was of the same family, he refused
the bishopric of Carlisle, and like that illustrious preacher and
parish priest, he was preeminent for pastoral diligence and for pulpit
eloquence.[289] The Corporation of the College was empowered to set
up "a printing press and a rolling press," and to buy "paper, iron,
tin, and letters," free of customs. The right was granted of printing
Bibles, and of licensing books for publication, together with the
monopoly of all works issuing from their press. The Provost, Fellows,
and Scholars were to be exempt from "watching, warding, or mustering,
or any hue and cry," and from all civic and rural offices, from that
of mayor down to that of scavenger. They were also exempted from all
customs, and their horses were not subjected to any liability--as
the charter expresses it--"to ride post." The instrument bears date
the 15th of May, 1657.[290] The next year Oliver Cromwell died, upon
which came a petition to the Protector Richard, praying that he would
complete what his father had begun. But opposition arose on the part of
Oxford and Cambridge. They petitioned against a third University, and
especially against conferring degrees--which, by the way, is a power
not mentioned in any part of Oliver's ordinance. The whole project of
course fell to the ground at the Restoration.
[Sidenote: _University of Durham._]
Sir William Petty, in a letter to Hartlib, Milton's friend, proposed
a third University in the Metropolis, and also a school for all
classes--none to be excluded by reason of the poverty and inability of
their parents; "for hereby," says the writer, "many are now holding the
plough which might have been made fit to steer the State."[291] The
unsuccessful schemes of the Commonwealth have been accomplished, to
some extent, in our own time, in the Durham and London Universities,
and it is to the credit of the men of that day that they anticipated
the wisdom of posterity.
Before closing this chapter, we may glance at certain ancient
foundations in which religion was blended with chivalry and with
education. The order of the Garter disappeared. One of the Canons of
St. George's Chapel, Windsor, in the reign of James I., had dwelt
with intense admiration upon its worship and service. God was there
daily and continually served--said this writer in a spirit of amazing
superstition--_like a God with the greatest magnificence_, and with all
means of devotion, such as music and outward ceremonies. The knights
had made solemn vows for the protection of the Church, and the relief
of orphans and widows. There the grounds of their courage and fortitude
were laid, and with sacrifices of silver and gold, they offered their
hearts to the Most High. Thus the Canon painted in glowing colours the
installations which he had witnessed in the gorgeous chapel within
the castle precincts--not forgetting to notice the blue coats and
chains of gold worn by the attendants. Indeed, it had been a display
little in harmony with Protestantism, and it all vanished like "the
baseless fabric of a vision" under the touch of the Presbyterian
Parliament.[292] Deans, Canons, Minor Canons, and Clerks were ejected,
with only liberty left "to carry forth all their goods, utensils,
household stuffs, and books to their several abodes." The furniture
and decorations of the Chapel were seized; Edward the Fourth's coat of
mail, with its gold, and pearls, and rubies, being amongst the most
valuable portions of the spoil. The church plate, handed over to the
treasury at Guildhall, went into the melting pot, and was coined into
money to pay the soldiers. The sacred edifice, cleansed of "all such
matters as are justly offensive to godly men," was used for a lecture,
set up "to be exercised every lord's Day, in the afternoon, to begin
when other sermons usually end, and one day in the week." Yet after
this ecclesiastical revolution so little was the building injured,
that, when one June day in 1654, Evelyn and his wife drove down to
Windsor in a coach and four, he alluded in his Diary to "the church and
workmanship in stone" as "admirable."
[Sidenote: _Public Schools._]
The old public schools of England,--whose glory it is to unite
Christian instruction with classical learning--were ecclesiastical
foundations; and these, under the rule of Parliament, and during the
reign of the Protector, met with little interruption and sustained
no real injury. Eton, after a temporary suspension of its statutes,
had, in the year 1645, its former usages restored; and the election
of scholars then recommenced "in manner as had theretofore been
accustomed."[293] Francis Rouse--who translated the Psalter into
English verse, who was one of the Protector's Council, who became
Speaker of the Little Parliament, and who obtained a seat in Cromwell's
House of Lords--had been Provost of the College from the time of the
ejection of Dr. Stewart in the year 1644. Rouse died in 1658, and was
buried at Eton with much pomp. Upon the consequent occurrence of a
vacancy, Whitelocke, then Constable of Windsor Castle, by the advice
of his friends, endeavoured to secure the vacant office--which he
described as "a thing of good value, quiet and honourable, and fit for
a scholar;" but on applying to his Highness, the candidate found the
place reserved as "a bait for some others."[294] Nicholas Lockyer, an
Oxford man, one of Oliver's chaplains, received the appointment.
[Sidenote: _Public Schools._]
The election of scholars at Westminster had, in the year 1645, been
vested in Commissioners, and also in the Master of the school, the
Master of Trinity, Cambridge, and the Dean of Christ Church, Oxford--if
"the said Dean were not a delinquent." The ordinance would give to
Dr. Owen, when he presided over Christ Church, the rights with regard
to the school which had been exercised by such dignitaries of old.
In the Act of April, 1649, for the sale of ecclesiastical property,
the foundations of Westminster, Winchester, and Eton were expressly
excepted from its operation.[295] The old Westminster school-room,
with its chesnut roof--which once covered the dormitory of the monks
of St. Peter--had its rows of boys (Puritans amongst the rest), under
the tuition of Puritan teachers, occupying the forms and studying
their Latin primers, as in days of yore. The then Head Master,
appointed about 1639, was no other than the famous Richard Bushy, whose
portrait--reminding one a little of the spare-looking but keen-eyed
Richard Baxter--still adorns the Deanery. There he wielded his ferule
for fifty-seven years, not sparing the rod lest he should spoil the
child.[296] One of his under-masters was the once well-known but now
forgotten Edward Bagshawe, an Oxford student, who had shewn himself a
turbulent and domineering person, not only in his college, but in the
University--where he disturbed the Vice-Chancellor "with interposed
speeches without formalities, and with his hat cocked," in which guise
he was wont to read his catechetical lecture. But Master Richard
Busby would not allow in office such a "pragmatical and ungrateful"
personage, and therefore "outed" him in 1658, when Littleton, a Christ
Church man, was put in his room.[297] The revenues of the public
schools of England were more or less affected by the disturbances of
the period, but in other respects they seem to have held on the even
tenor of their way.
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