THE ROYALIST CAPITAL
Charles I. had matriculated at Oxford in 1616; his brother Henry had
been a student at Magdalen. On his accession to the throne, an outbreak
of plague in London led to the meeting of Parliament at Oxford. For the
accommodation of members, the colleges and halls "were ordered to be
freed from the Fellows, Masters of Arts and students." Christ Church was
prepared for the reception of the Privy Council by the same process. The
Houses sat in the Divinity Schools. And some said that they caught the
theological infection of the place, and that ever after that the Commons
thought that the determining of all points and controversies in Divinity
belonged to them. Parliament returned the compliment by infecting Oxford
with the plague, which they had fled from London to avoid.
The coming struggle was foreshadowed by conflicts between town and gown.
Once more the alarm bells of S. Mary's and S. Martin's rang out and
summoned the opposing parties to the fray; once more it was true that
when Oxford drew knife England would soon be at strife. Nothing, Laud
had noted, could be transacted in the State, without its being
immediately winnowed in the parliament of scholars. Windows were broken,
proctors jostled; books were burnt by order of Parliament; young
Puritans from New Inn Hall or Lincoln were forced to eat their words.
Prynne's ears had been cut off, but the Puritans multiplied their
conventicles in Oxford. But it was not till after Laud's impeachment,
and his short pathetic resignation of his chancellorship, dated from the
Tower, 1641, that they grew so bold as to preach and discourse as they
listed. Then the Puritan feeling grew rapidly not only among the
townsmen but also in the colleges. A maypole set up in Holywell in
derision of a certain Puritan musician was pulled down by the scholars
of New Inn and Magdalen Hall. The report that the Mitre Inn was a
meeting-place for recusants, gave occasion for the enemies of Laud to
allege in the House of Commons that through his influence the University
was infected with Popery. A certificate was accordingly drawn up by the
Heads of Houses to the effect that "they knew not any one member of this
University guilty of or addicted to Popery." Parliament, however,
requisitioned the records of the University in order to obtain evidence
against Laud. Some of his regulations, such as the encouraging of the
use of copes and of Latin prayers in Lent, were indeed used to support
the charge of high treason against him.
The Puritans, however, remained in the minority at Oxford. The part
which she would take in the Civil War was never doubtful. Laud had
filled the chief posts of the University with carefully chosen High
Churchmen of great ability. Oxford was committed to the doctrines of
passive obedience, and fast rooted in the tenets of the Anglican Church.
The University pressed upon Parliament the duty of maintaining
Episcopacy and the Cathedrals. The contemptuous treatment their
arguments met with was contrasted with the reply of Charles, that "he
would rather feed on bread and water than mingle any part of God's
patrimony with his own revenues." Learning and studies, he maintained,
must needs perish if the honours and rewards of learning were destroyed;
nor would the monarchy itself stand long if the hierarchy perished. "No
Bishop, no King!"
Parliament, it was felt, had shown unfriendly feeling towards the
University. The town, headed by Alderman John Nixon, had most
unmistakably shown that its sympathies were with the Parliament. It is
not surprising therefore to find that in the coming struggle the
University is always unreservedly on the side of the King. Royalist
colleges like New College and Christ Church took the lead, and Puritan
establishments like Lincoln and Magdalen followed unprotestingly.
When (1642) a letter from the King at York, asking for contributions to
his necessary defence, was laid before Convocation, it was unanimously
resolved that whatever money the University was possessed of, should be
lent to the King. The colleges and private persons were equally loyal.
University College set an example which was freely followed. The bulk of
the college plate was pawned, and the sum advanced on it was immediately
dispatched to the King.
[Illustration: From the High Street]
The Parliament retorted in vain with prohibitory letters, and demanded
the surrender of the chief champions of the King--Prideaux, Rector of
Exeter; Fell, Dean of Christ Church; Frewen, President of Magdalen; and
Potter, Provost of Queen's.
Since there was a strong report that divers troops of soldiers were
constantly passing hard by the city on their march to secure Banbury and
Warwick for the Parliament, the University began to put itself in a
posture of defence. Masters and scholars rallied together on 18th August
to drill in Christ Church Quadrangle, and marched from the Schools up
the High Street to the number of three hundred and thirty or more,
making ready to defend the city.
"On the Saturday following they met at the Schools again in the
forenoon. Thence they marched through Holywell and so through the
Manor Yard by the Church where by their commanders they were
divided into four squadrons of which two were musketeers, the third
pikes, the fourth halberds. After they had been reasonably
instructed in the words of command, and in their postures, they
were put into battle array, and skirmished together in a very
decent manner. They continued there till about two of the clock in
the afternoon, and then they returned into the city by S. Giles'
Church, and going through the North Gate, went through the
market-place at Quatervois, and so down the High Street, that so
both the city and country might take notice thereof, it being then
full market, to the Schools, from which place they were soon after
dismissed and sent to their respective Colleges to their
devotions."
Among the array are mentioned some divines and a Doctor of Civil Law
from New College, who served with a pike. As for drums and colours,
those belonging to the Cooks' Corporation served their turn for the
present. Meantime the highway "at the hither end of East Bridge, just at
the corner of the Chaplain's Quadrangle of Magdalen College," was
blocked up with long timber logs to keep out horsemen, and a timber gate
was also erected there and chained at night. Some loads of stones were
carried up to the top of Magdalen Tower, to be flung down on the enemy
at their entrance. Two posts were set up at Smith Gate, with a chain to
run through them to bar the way; a crooked trench in the form of a bow
was made across the highway at the end of S. John's College walks; and
measures were taken to provide the scholars with barbed arrows. A strict
watch was kept at nights.
Charles raised his standard at Nottingham, and on 28th August Sir John
Byron rode in at the head of one or two hundred troopers to secure
Oxford for the King. The scholars "closed with them and were joyful for
their coming. Yet some Puritanical townsmen out of guilt fled to
Abingdon, fearing they should be ill-used and imprisoned."
On 1st September twenty-seven senior members of the University, with the
Vice-Chancellor, Prideaux, and the proctors, formed themselves into what
the scholars nicknamed a Council of War, to arrange with Byron for the
safety of the University. Drilling went on steadily in the quadrangles
of Christ Church and Corpus Christi, of New College and Magdalen.
Attempts were also made to take up Osney Bridge and to substitute a
drawbridge. But the townsmen and their train-bands, which had assembled
in Broken Hayes, objected, and the scholars and troopers were forced to
desist.
But a strong Parliamentary force lay at Aylesbury. It was evident that,
with the best will in the world, a few hundred troopers and enthusiastic
scholars could not hold the city, which lay at present so far from the
King's quarters. The townsmen were by no means eager Royalists. They
made fair pretences of joining with the University and King's troops,
but they informed Parliament that all they had done for the King was at
the instigation of the University. The University accordingly sent to
Aylesbury to inform the threatening Parliamentarians there that they
would lay down their arms and dismiss the troopers. Dr Pink, however,
Warden of New College and Deputy Vice-Chancellor, who had gone to make
his peace at Aylesbury, was seized and committed to prison in the
gate-house at Westminster. On 10th September Byron rode away. About a
hundred volunteers from the University accompanied him, and most of them
made their way to Worcester before the siege.
Two days later Colonel Arthur Goodwin rode into the city with a troop of
Parliamentarians. Goodwin was lodged at Merton, and his troopers
picketed their horses in Christ Church meadows. The college gates were
kept open, and the soldiers wandered in to see the cathedral and painted
windows, "and much admired at the idolatry of them." Lord Say, the
Parliamentarian Lord Lieutenant of Oxford, a New College man, arrived on
14th September, and immediately ordered that the works and trenches of
the scholars should be demolished. The colleges were searched for arms
and plate. The Christ Church plate was hidden by the staunch Dr Fell. It
was found hidden in the walls behind the wainscot and in the cellar. The
plate of University College was found in the house of Mr Thomas Smith.
This Say adjudged to be lawful prize, but he told the fellows that as
long as they kept their plate in places fit for plate, the treasury or
buttery, it should remain untouched.
The city was mustered at Broken Hayes, and the arms of the train-bands
were shown to Lord Say, who shortly afterwards left the place with his
men, for both sides were now massing their forces. Little damage had
been done, but "his Lordship caused divers Popish books and pictures, as
he called them, which he had taken out of churches, and especially the
houses of Papists here in Oxford and in the country, to be burned in the
street, against the Star Inn," where he had lodged. And as they were
leaving the town, one of the London troopers, when passing S. Mary's
Church, discharged a brace of bullets at the "very scandalous image" of
Our Lady over the porch, striking off her head and the head of the
Child, which she held in her right arm. Another fired at the image of
Our Saviour over All Souls' gate, and would have defaced all the work
there, if he had not been remonstrated with by the citizens. He retorted
that they had not been so well entertained at Oxford as they expected.
Say made a disastrous miscalculation in thus evacuating Oxford. For
within a few weeks it was destined to become and to remain the
headquarters of the King.
Many Royalists who had been wounded at Edgehill were brought into
Oxford. On 29th October the King, with the Duke of York, Prince Charles
and Rupert, rode in with the army at the North Gate. The colours taken
from the enemy were carried in triumph; the King was received by the
mayor with a present of money at Pennilesse Bench, and the heavy
ordnance, twenty-seven pieces in all, were driven into Magdalen College
Grove. The princes and many of the court took their degrees. Charles
stayed but a short while, for, after having recruited his army and
having been presented by the colleges with all the money they had in
their treasuries, he presently left the city to make an advance on
London. For Reading had surrendered to the Royalists, and Rupert's
daring capture of Brentford now threatened the capital. But the junction
of the train-bands of London with the army of Essex forced Charles to
fall back on his old quarters at Oxford. There the fortification of the
town was giving him a firm hold on the Midland counties.
A plan of fortifications had been prepared by one Rallingson, a B.A. of
Queen's College. A series of earthworks, with sharp angles flanking each
other, was to be thrown up outside the town. On 5th December 1642 the
University bellman had gone about the city warning all privileged
persons that were householders to send some of their families next day
to dig at the works. The citizens, however, who were set to work north
of S. Giles', were not enthusiastic. The King found only twelve of them
working where there should have been one hundred and twenty-two, "of
which neglect his majesty took notice and told them in the field."
The trench and rampart thus begun by the privileged men and workmen paid
by the colleges, ran from the Cherwell at Holywell Mill, passing by
Wadham and S. John's gardens and S. Giles' Church up to the branch of
the Thames at Walton Bridge. Next, similar earthworks were made to cover
S. Clement's, the east suburb. As time was pressing, and the city and
county were not eager workers, the King called upon the University to
help in February. The members of the various colleges were set to work
on the line which ran from Folly Bridge across Christ Church meadow in
front of Merton. (The bastion traceable in Merton Gardens dates from
this time.) In the following June every person resident in a college or
hall between sixteen and sixty was required to give a day's work a week
with pick and spade, or to pay for a substitute, if unable or unwilling
to anticipate the labours of Mr Ruskin. Finally (January 1644), the
colleges were commanded to raise the sum of forty pounds a week for
twenty weeks to complete the works.
Before leaving for Reading, the King had reviewed the regiment of
scholars in Christ Church meadows. They were armed with helmets and back
and breast pieces. The regiment, which consisted at first of four
companies only, soon grew, as enthusiasm waxed, to eight or nine
companies. The gown was exchanged for the military coat, and square caps
for the helmet. Meanwhile arms and provisions had been accumulated, and
ammunition, "the want wherof all men looked upon with great horror," had
been thrown into the town.
The New College cloister and tower were converted into a magazine for
muskets, bullets and gunpowder; corn was stored in the Law and Logic
School, and victuals in the Guildhall. Clothes for the army were stowed
in the Music and Astronomy Schools. The mill at Osney was used as a
powder factory.
The King now established his court at Christ Church. Never perhaps has
there existed so curious a spectacle as Oxford presented in these days.
A city unique in itself, so the author of "John Inglesant" has described
it, became the resort of a court under unique circumstances, and of an
innumerable throng of people of every rank, disposition and taste, under
circumstances the most extraordinary and romantic.
The ancient colleges and halls were thronged with ladies and gentlemen
of the court, some of whom found themselves like fishes out of water (as
one of them expressed it), when they were obliged to be content with "a
very bad bed in a garret of a baker's house in an obscure street, and
one dish of meat a day, and that not the best ordered, no money and no
clothes." Soldiers were quartered in the college gates and the kitchens.
Yet, amidst all this confusion, there was maintained both something of a
courtly pomp and something of a learned and religious society. The King
dined and supped in public, and walked in state in Christ Church meadow
and Merton Gardens and the Grove of Trinity, which the wits called
Daphne. A parliament sat from day to day. For (1644) the members of both
Houses who had withdrawn from Westminster were summoned to meet at
Oxford. The King received them very graciously in Christ Church Hall,
made them a speech, and asked them to consult together in the Divinity
Schools and to advise him for the good of the kingdom. About three
hundred commons and sixty peers thus sat at Oxford, and a hundred
commons and ten or a dozen peers at Westminster, so that the country
enjoyed the felicity of two parliaments at once, each denying the right
of the other to exist. The branch at Westminster rejected overtures of
peace from the branch at Oxford. The latter devoted themselves to
finding funds for the war. Contributions were called for, and the
members themselves headed the list. A mint was established at New Inn
Hall, and all plate that was brought in was coined.[37] At Westminster,
on the other hand, the system of an excise upon beer, wine and spirits
was invented.
And whilst Parliament sat in the Divinity Schools, service was sung
daily in all the chapels; books both of learning and poetry were printed
in the city, and the distinctions which the colleges had to offer were
conferred with pomp on the royal followers, as almost the only rewards
the King had to bestow. Men of every opinion flocked to Oxford, and many
foreigners came to visit the King. Christmas interludes were enacted in
hall, and Shakespeare's plays performed; the groves and walks of the
colleges, and especially Christ Church meadow and the Grove at Trinity,
were the resort of a brilliant throng of gay courtiers and gayer ladies;
the woods were vocal with song and music; love and gallantry sported
themselves along the pleasant river banks.
[Illustration: Courtyard to Palace]
"Many times," Aubrey of Trinity tells us, "my lady Isabella Thynne would
make her entry into our grove with a lute or theorbo played before her.
I have heard her play on it in the grove myself; for which Mr Edmund
Waller hath in his poems for ever made her famous." But old Dr Kettell
of Trinity had no feeling for this sort of thing. He lectured Lady
Isabella and her friend Mrs Fanshawe in no mincing terms when they
attended chapel one morning "half dressed, like angels." "Madam," he
cried by way of peroration, "get you gone for a very woman!" The poets
and wits vied with each other in classic conceits and parodies, wherein
the events of the day and every individual incident were portrayed and
satirised. Wit, learning and religion, joined hand in hand, as in some
grotesque and brilliant masque. The most admired poets and players and
the most profound mathematicians became "Romancists" and monks, and
exhausted all their wit and poetry and learning in furthering their
divine mission, and finally, as the last scenes of this strange drama
came on, fell fighting on some hardly-contested grassy slope, and were
buried on the spot, or in the next village churchyard, in the dress in
which they played Philaster, or the court garb in which they wooed their
mistress, or the doctor's gown in which they preached before the King,
or read Greek in the schools.
This gaiety was much increased when the Queen joined Charles on 14th
July 1643. Two thousand foot, one thousand horse, six pieces of cannon
and two mortars, which formed her escort, proved a welcome addition to
the cause. The Queen, who had entered the city in great state and had
been loyally welcomed, held her court at Merton, where, ever since, the
room over the archway into the Fellows' Quadrangle has been known as the
Queen's Chamber. From it a passage was constructed through Merton Hall
and its vestibule, crossing the archway over Patey's Quadrangle, and
descending to the sacristy, thence by a door into the chapel, and so to
the grove and the gardens of Corpus. Hence a door, still traceable, was
opened in the garden wall, and the private way was continued till it
reached the royal apartments in Christ Church.
Well might the classic wits compare the scene to the marriage of Jupiter
and Juno of old, for here indeed wisdom and folly, vice and piety,
learning and gaiety, terrible earnest even unto death and light
frivolity jostled each other in the stately precincts of Parnassus and
Olympus.
Meantime, the war was going more and more in favour of the King.
Parliament redoubled its endeavours. Essex, whose army had been freshly
equipped, was ordered to advance upon Oxford. But he did not care to
risk his raw forces, and contented himself with recapturing Reading. The
King was ready to "give him battle about Oxford if he advanced; and in
the meantime, encamped his foot upon the downs, about a mile from
Abingdon, which was the head-quarters for his horse." At Westminster it
was believed that Charles could not withstand a resolute attack on
Oxford. Disease, however, thinned the ranks of Essex, and his inaction
gave the Queen an opportunity of dispatching to Oxford a much-needed
convoy of arms and ammunition. Charles now felt that he could resist any
attack, and even afford to send part of his small force from Oxford to
aid the rising in the west. At last, to quiet his supporters in London,
Essex advanced towards Thame. His presence there, and the information
given him by Colonel Hurry, a Scottish deserter, provided Rupert with an
opportunity for making one of those daring raids which have immortalised
the name of that dashing cavalry leader. Essex had made a futile
endeavour to capture Islip. The same afternoon, with a force of about a
thousand men, Rupert sallied out, hoping to cut off a convoy which was
bringing £21,000 from London to Essex's army. An hour after midnight the
tramp of his band was heard by the sentinels at Tetsworth; two hours
later, as the sky was whitening before the dawn, he surprised a party of
the enemy at Postcombe. He then proceeded to Chinnor, within two miles
of Thame, and again successfully surprised a force of the enemy. It was
now time to look out for the convoy. The alarm, however, had been given.
The drivers were warned by a countryman, and they turned the heads of
their team into the woods, which clothed the sides of the Chiltern
Hills. Rupert could not venture to follow. Laden with prisoners and
booty the Royalists were returning to Oxford, when, about eight o'clock
in the morning, they found themselves cut off by the cavalry who had
been dispatched by Essex. Rupert had just passed Chalgrove Field and was
entering the lane which led to Chiselhampton Bridge, where a regiment of
foot had been ordered to come out to support his return, when the
enemy's horse was found to be overtaking him. He immediately ordered the
guard with the prisoners to make their way to the bridge, whilst he with
his tired troopers drew up on Chalgrove Field. The Parliamentarians
hoped to hold him till succour arrived from headquarters. It was a
dangerous game to play with Rupert. "This insolence," he cried, "is not
to be borne." He was the first to leap the hedge behind which the enemy
was drawn up. The Roundheads fought that day as they had never fought
before. They were put to flight at last, but not before Hampden himself,
who had slept that night at Wallington and had ridden out as a volunteer
at the sound of the alarm, had been seen "to ride off the field before
the action was done, which he never used to do, with his head hanging
down, and resting his hands upon the neck of his horse." He was indeed
mortally wounded, and his death seemed an omen of the ruin of the cause
he loved. Disaster followed disaster. Essex fell back towards London;
Bristol was surrendered into Rupert's hands, and the flight of six of
the few peers who remained at Westminster to the camp at Oxford proved
the general despair of the Parliament's success.
But the discontent and jealousy which were always rife among the
soldiers and courtiers in Charles' camp, broke out afresh when the King
returned to Oxford after his failure to take Gloucester. From this
moment, indeed, the firmness of Parliament and the factiousness and
foolishness of the King's party began slowly to reverse the fortunes of
the war. Parliament obtained the assistance of Scotland, and Charles
negotiated with the Irish Catholics. The alliance was fatal to his
cause. Many of Charles' supporters left him; the six peers fled back to
Westminster. The covenant was concluded. A Scotch army crossed the
border and co-operated with Fairfax and Leven in the north; Essex
watched the King at Oxford, and was presently supported by Waller, who
had been holding Prince Maurice in check in the west. The Queen, who was
_enceinte_, and afraid of being besieged, now insisted on leaving Oxford
(April 1644). She made her way safely to Exeter.
The Royalists abandoned Reading and fell back on Oxford, where measures
were being taken for defence. Regiments were enlisted; trees were felled
in Magdalen walks, and means were provided for flooding the meadows
beyond. Batteries were erected at suitable points. One of these, at the
north-east corner of the walks, was called Dover Pier (Dover's Peer?),
probably after the Earl of Dover, who commanded the new University
Regiment. This regiment mustered for the first time on 14th May 1644 in
Magdalen College Grove, and, along with the City Regiment, was reviewed
on Bullingdon Green a few days later. The rise in the ground at the end
of Addison's Walk, which is still noticeable, is probably due to the
high and strong causeway which we know led from the walks to the battery
in the river.
The Parliamentarians advanced, Abingdon was evacuated by the Royalist
army under Wilmot, and occupied by Essex. Charles was forced to withdraw
all his forces to the north of Oxford. The King's position was now so
serious, that it was confidently reported in London that Oxford was
taken and the King a prisoner. Another rumour ran that the King had
decided to come to London, or what Parliament chiefly feared, to
surrender himself to Essex. Presently, indeed, his own supporters
advised this course, but His Majesty indignantly rejected the
suggestion, saying that possibly he might be found in the hands of
Essex, but he would be dead first.
As no help could be looked for from north or west, he determined to stay
in Oxford and watch for an opportunity of fighting Waller or Essex
separately. With this object in view he disposed his army so as to
prevent the rebels from crossing the Cherwell or Isis, the foot holding
the former and the horse and dragoons the latter. A series of smart
skirmishes ensued. Some of Waller's forces attempted to pass the Isis at
Newbridge, but were repulsed. The next day (29th May), however, Essex
crossed the Thames at Sandford Ferry with his whole army and quartered
himself at Islip. On his way thither he halted on Bullingdon Green,
"that the city might take a full view of his army and he of it." He
himself rode up within cannon shot, whilst parties of his horse
skirmished about the gates, and gave the scholars and citizens an
opportunity of trying their prowess. "It gave some terror to Oxon," says
Wood, "and therefore two prayers by his Majesty's appointment were made
and published, one for the safety of his Majesty's person and the other
for the preservation of the University and City, to be used in all the
churches." But there was no intention of making an assault upon the
town. Essex was merely covering the passage of his baggage train. Whilst
he was thus occupied and the scholars were making a sortie, Charles and
Rupert ascended Magdalen Tower and watched the movements of the enemy.
Next morning a determined effort was made by Essex to pass over the
Cherwell at Gosworth Bridge, but he was repulsed by the musketeers with
considerable loss. Essex being now on the east side of the river and cut
off from communication with Waller, the King strove to avail himself of
the opportunity of retaking Abingdon and engaging Waller singly.
But after an unsuccessful move against Abingdon, the design was
abandoned, and the Royalist forces were once more concentrated on the
north side of Oxford. Sir Jacob Ashley, Major-General of the Foot,
himself took command at Gosworth Bridge, where, he perceived, Essex
intended to force a passage. There he threw up breastworks and a
redoubt, and succeeded in repulsing the enemy, who renewed their attacks
from day to day and even brought up cannon to their support without
avail. Meanwhile, however, Waller effected the passage of the Isis at
Newbridge, quartered his van at Eynsham, and threatened the rear of the
King's army. Ashley was compelled to retire. Essex immediately threw his
men across the Cherwell, and quartered them that night at Bletchington.
His horse advanced to Woodstock. The King seemed to be enveloped by the
opposing armies. But after making a demonstration against Abingdon,
Charles slipped out of Oxford on the night of 3rd June. Marching out
with six thousand men by S. John's Road, he made his way along a rough
crooked lane and got clear away to the north of the city. He left the
Duke of York in the town, and promised, if the place was besieged, to do
all he could to relieve it before it was reduced to extremity. But the
town had scarcely enough provisions to stand a month's siege.
A series of brilliant successes rewarded the perseverance of the King,
for he now waited till Essex marched to attack Prince Maurice at Lyme,
then turning on Waller, crushed his army at Copredy Bridge on the
Cherwell, fourteen miles north of Oxford. After two days' rest at
Oxford, he followed up his success by pursuing Essex into Cornwall and
gaining a complete victory over him there. But in the midst of these
successes came the news of the disaster in the north. The star of
Cromwell had risen where Rupert's had begun to set, at Marston Moor. The
battle of Newbury checked the King's advance on London, and he withdrew
once more to winter at Oxford (27th October 1644). He was much pleased
with the progress that had been made with the fortifications. In order
to carry on his operations against Waller and Essex, he had been obliged
to denude Oxford of troops. But before leaving it he had provided for
its safety. For Parliament had a strong garrison at Reading and another
at Abingdon, and the danger of a siege seemed imminent. The inhabitants
were therefore commanded to provide themselves with corn and victuals
for three months, or to leave the town "as persons insensible of their
own dangers and the safety of the place." The safety of the place having
been secured, the garrison had felt themselves strong enough to send out
a force to the relief of Basing-House. The objections of the governor,
Sir Arthur Aston, who had succeeded Sir William Pennyman in that office,
were overruled. Colonel Gage made a dash from Oxford, relieved the
Marquis of Winchester and returned safely to Oxford after having
performed one of the most brilliant of the minor feats of arms that
occurred during the war. Charles, on his return, appointed him Governor
of Oxford, in place of Sir Arthur Aston, who had broken his leg. Gage,
who is buried in the Cathedral, was killed shortly afterwards at Culham
Bridge in an attempt to surprise Abingdon.
In the spring of 1645 Oliver Cromwell appeared in the parts about
Oxford. He was in command of some cavalry, and the object of his
movements, in conjunction with those of Sir Thomas Fairfax, was to
prevent Prince Maurice from removing heavy guns from Oxford to Hereford,
and thereby to disarrange Charles' plan for an early campaign. Cromwell
routed Northampton at Islip. A party of the defeated Cavaliers took
refuge at Bletchington House. Cromwell called upon the governor,
Windebanke, to surrender. Deceived by the sheer audacity of the demand,
and moved, it is said, by the timorous entreaties of a party of ladies
from Oxford whom he was entertaining at Bletchington, he yielded.
Windebanke paid dearly for his weakness. He was shot in the Castle
garden on his return to Oxford. Cromwell swept round the city and
defeated Sir Henry Vaughan at Bampton. The Parliamentarians had now
achieved their object. They moved away from Oxford. In a few weeks they
were back again, and the new fortifications of the city were at length
put to the test. The siege was heralded by the appearance of some
scattered horse near Cowley on 19th May. Thence they, with other horse
and foot, passed over Bullingdon Green to Marston, and showed themselves
on Headington Hill. On the 22nd Fairfax sat down before Oxford. He threw
up a breastwork on the east side of Cherwell, and constructed a bridge
near Marston, across which he passed some regiments. Cromwell was
commanding at Wytham and Major Browne at Wolvercote. The most
considerable incident that occurred during the fifteen days' siege was a
successful sortie in the direction of Headington Hill, which was made by
Colonel William Legge, the governor of the town. Then Fairfax raised the
siege and moved north; a few weeks later the fateful battle of Naseby
was fought. Thereafter the King finally made his way to Oxford from
Newark. Here for a while he was safe; but in the spring Fairfax marched
upon Oxford. The King was driven from his last refuge. At three in the
morning of 27th April, disguised as a servant, with his beard and hair
closely trimmed, he passed over Magdalen Bridge in apparent attendance
upon John Ashburnham and a scholar, one Hudson, "who understood the
byeways as well as the common, and was indeed a very skilful guide."
"Farewell, Harry," Glenham called out to his sovereign, as he performed
the governor's duty of closing the gates behind him. Charles' departure
was kept so secret that Fairfax, who arrived before Oxford on the fifth
day after, sat down before the city, and made his circumvallation before
he knew of it.
The Duke of York and all the King's Council remained shut up in Oxford.
Fairfax found the city well prepared for a siege.
"The rising ground to the north was protected by many strong
bulwarks flanking one another. Round about the line, both upon the
bulwarks and the curtain, was strongly set with storm poles.
Outside the ditch was a strong palisade beyond which were many pits
dug so that a single footman could not without difficulty approach
to the trench. Within the city were 5000 foot, and the place was
well supplied with stores. All this strength being apprehended and
considered by Sir Thomas Fairfax, he concluded that this was no
place to be taken at a running pull, but likely rather to prove a
business of time, hazard and industry."
Accordingly he proceeded to make a fortified camp on Headington Hill, to
make a bridge over the Cherwell near Marston, and establish a post
between the Cherwell and Isis on the north for the main body of his
troops. Lines were drawn from Headington to S. Bartholomew's common
road, and from thence to Campus pits. A memento of the siege, a cannon
shot which is said to have struck the gateway tower of S. John's
College, is preserved in the library of that college.
Little progress, however, had been made with the siege, though the
defence was for a lost cause, when Charles, who had been handed over by
the Scots to a Committee of the House, sent orders to the governor to
make conditions and surrender the place to Fairfax.
Honourable terms were granted. Fairfax had expressed his earnest desire
to preserve a place "so famous for learning from ruin." His first act,
for he was a scholar as well as a soldier, was to protect the Bodleian.
A clause to the effect that all churches, colleges and schools should be
preserved from harm was inserted in the Articles of Surrender. The
liberties and privileges of the city and the University were guaranteed,
and on 24th June the garrison, some three thousand strong, marched out
in drenching rain over Magdalen Bridge, colours flying and drums
beating, between files of Roundhead infantry.
So ended the Great Rebellion. And the history of it remained to be
written by Edward Hyde, the Earl of Clarendon, who came to the task
equipped with a wisdom that is born of a large experience of men and
affairs. A moderate but faithful adherent of the Royalist cause, he
could say of himself that he wrote of events "quorum pars magna fui." He
had been one of the King's most trusted advisers at Oxford. There he
lived in All Souls' College, and the King wished to make him Secretary
of State. "I must make Ned Hyde Secretary of State, for the truth is I
can trust nobody else," wrote the harassed monarch to his Queen. In his
great history, so lively yet dignified in style, so moderate in tone and
penetrating in its portrayal of character, he built for himself a
monument more durable than brass. A monument not less noble has been
raised for him in Oxford out of the proceeds of that very book. For the
copyright of the history was presented to the University by his son, and
partly out of the funds thus arising the handsome building north-east of
the Sheldonian Theatre was erected, from designs by Sir John Vanbrugh
(1713). Here the University Press was transferred from the Sheldonian
Theatre, where it had found its first permanent and official home. The
"Clarendon" Press was removed in 1830 to the present building in Walton
Street, when it had outgrown the accommodation of the Clarendon
building.
Like Sir Harry Vane, Clarendon had been educated at Magdalen Hall. The
chair in which he wrote his history is preserved at the Bodleian, and
there too may be seen many of the notes which his royal master used to
throw him across the table at a Council meeting.
There had been another inhabitant of Oxford in these stirring days much
affected by these events, a youth endowed with unbounded antiquarian
enthusiasm and an excellent gift of observation. This "chiel amang them
taking notes" was Anthony Wood, to whose work every writer on Oxford
owes a debt unpayable. Born in the Portionists' Hall, the old house
opposite Merton and next door to that fine old house, Beam Hall, where,
he says, the first University press was established, Wood was carried at
the age of four to see the entry of Charles and Rupert, and was a
Royalist ever after. Educated first at a small Grammar School near S.
Peter le Bailey and then at New College School, he became familiar
[Illustration: The Cloisters New College]
with the aspect of old Oxford as it was before the changes wrought by
the siege, and he was able to transcribe into his notebooks many old
inscriptions and memorials just before a period of wanton destruction.
When the war broke out there was much ado to prevent his eldest brother,
a student at Christ Church, from donning the armour with which his
father decked out the manservant. The New College boys grew
soldier-struck as they gazed from their school in the cloister upon the
train-bands drilling in the quadrangle. They were presently turned out
of their school to make room for the munitions of war.
But I have no space to write of the vicissitudes of "A. W.'s" life; of
the fate which befell his biographies of Oxford writers; of his quarrels
with Dean Fell, that staunch Royalist and stern disciplinarian of whom
every child learns to lisp in numbers:
"I do not like thee, Dr Fell;
The reason why I cannot tell.
But only this I know full well,
I do not like thee, Dr Fell."
The first step taken for the "reformation" of Oxford was a Parliamentary
order (July 1646) suspending elections in the University and colleges,
and forbidding the granting or renewing of leases. The University
petitioned Fairfax to obtain the recall of this order, on the ground
that it was contrary to the Articles of Surrender. The prohibition was
not enforced. But the condition of the University was deplorable. The
quadrangles were empty, the courts overgrown with grass. Scholars ceased
to come up, and those who were in residence were utterly demoralised by
the war. Before the changes and chances of war and religion, learning
shrank in dismay and discipline disappeared.
Six Presbyterian preachers were now sent down to supersede the Royalist
preachers, to beat the pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, and convince the
University. All they succeeded in doing was to rouse the Independents
among the garrison who had already been practising in the schools and
lecture-rooms. The Military Saints now set themselves, "with wry mouths,
squint eyes, screwed faces, antic behaviours, squeaking voices and
puling tones," to out-preach the proselytising Presbyterians. Royalist
Oxford rocked with laughter and congratulated itself prematurely that
the revolution had begun to devour its own children.
But a commission was appointed to visit the University in May 1647. Sir
Nathaniel Brent, Warden of Merton, was chairman, and Prynne a member.
Their proceedings were delayed by an absurd trick. The University had
been summoned to appear before them in the Schools between nine and
eleven. But the preliminary sermon in S. Mary's was of such length that
eleven had struck and the University had dispersed before the
commissioners could get to work. The University appointed a delegacy to
act on its behalf, which drew up a very able and moderate series of
reasons for not submitting to the tests that were to be proposed. The
authority of the Visitors was challenged. Time was thus gained, and the
struggle that was going on between the Presbyterians and the
Independents paralysed the Visitors. A committee of the Lords and
Commons, however, presently armed them with fresh powers. After three
hours of preliminary prayer, "a way" says Wood, "by which they were wont
to commence their actions for all sorts of wickednesses," they proceeded
to inquire "into the behaviour of all Governors, Professors, Officers
and members." Dr Fell and the majority of the University offered a firm
resistance.
Fell was seized and imprisoned. The action of the Visitors, however, was
still paralysed by the lack of constitutional authority. They were once
more strengthened by the London Committee. The business of deprivation
began. Sentence was passed upon half a dozen Heads of Houses, "but not a
man stirred from his place." The University, in fact, continued to
ignore the proceedings of the Visitors. Even after the arrival of the
Chancellor, Lord Pembroke, and of Fairfax's troops, whom the Visitors
were empowered to use, the expelled Heads refused to leave their
colleges. Mrs Fell held the deanery of Christ Church valiantly. When the
Chancellor, with some soldiers, appeared there and desired Mrs Fell to
quit her quarters, "she refused that kind proposal, had very ill
language given to her by him, and then she was carried into the
quadrangle in a chair by soldiers," and her children on boards. The
buttery book was then sent for and Fell's name dashed out. Passive
resistance of this kind and the use of every legal device to delay the
action of the Visitors were adopted everywhere.
The University fought every inch of the ground, standing firmly on the
vantage ground of constitutional right. But the gown usually has to
yield to arms. New Heads were appointed, new M.A.'s created, and the
Visitors proceeded to purge the colleges. Every fellow, student and
servant was asked, "Do you submit to the authority of Parliament in this
present Visitation?" Those who did not submit were turned out. Presently
the Negative Oath was tendered, and subscription to "the Engagement" was
required. Rather than submit to these tests over four hundred fellows
preferred to be ejected. Puritans, men for the most part of real
learning and piety, were substituted, though those who suffered
described "the new plantation of saints" as an illiterate rabble, "swept
up from the plough-tail and scraped out of Cambridge."
At New College a very large proportion of the fellows were expelled:
fifty at the lowest computation. The inquisition even extended its
investigations to the college servants. The organist, sexton,
under-butler, manciple, porter, groom and basket bearer were all outed,
when they could not in conscience submit. At Merton Wood refused to
answer, but by the goodwill of the warden and Arch Visitor, a friend of
his mother, "A. W. was connived at and kept in his place, otherwise he
had infallibly gone to the pot."
The Visitors acted, on the whole, in the spirit of genuine reformers.
Apart from imposing a system of Puritan morals, they worked with a
sincere desire to make the colleges fruitful nurseries of learning. What
they did, and still more what they wished to do, with regard to the
discipline of the place was on the right lines of educational advance.
In July an attempt was made to recapture the guard and magazine in New
College. The conspiracy was revealed by a boozing and boastful
conspirator. Two years later a mutiny of the garrison, in protest
against excise, tithes and lawyers, was checked by the vigilance of
Colonel Ingoldsby, the governor.
Fairfax and Cromwell visited Oxford to see how the reformation was
progressing (17th May 1649), and lodged at All Souls'. They dined at
Magdalen, where they had "good cheer and bad speeches, and afterwards
played at bowls in the College Green." They both received a D.C.L.
degree, and Cromwell assured the University that he meant to encourage
learning. Next year he became Chancellor, and besides presenting some
MSS. he resisted the proposal to reduce the academical endowments which
Milton supported.
Learning and discipline were never popular; long sermons, compulsory
attendance at innumerable religious exercises, and catechisms in the
tutors' rooms were not more so. As the sands of the Commonwealth ran out
the approaching Restoration found a welcome at Oxford. It was a sign of
the times that, when Richard Cromwell was proclaimed Protector, the
mayor and the troopers were pelted with turnip-tops by the scholars in
front of S. Mary's. Without waiting for a formal proclamation of the new
order, men reverted to it by a kind of spontaneous instinct. Six weeks
or more before the Restoration, a bold man read the Common Prayer in S.
Mary Magdalen Church in surplice and hood, and that church was always
"full of young people purposely to hear and see the novelty."
At the news of the Restoration all England "went mad with joy"; at
Oxford the rejoicing "lasted till the morning." And when Coronation Day
came, "Conduit ran a hogshead of wine." Common Prayer was restored and
surplices; Puritan preaching went out of fashion; the organs of
Magdalen, New College and Christ Church sounded once more; plays were
performed and the Solemn League and Covenant was burnt.
Yet the prejudice against surplice and organ was deep. Many still
denounced organ-music as the whining of pigs. At Magdalen men clad in
surplices, with hands and faces blackened, paraded the cloisters at
twilight to encourage the story that Satan himself had appeared and
adopted the surplice. Filthy insults and ribald abuse were heaped upon
the innocent garment.
A Royal Commission visited the University to eject the intruders and
restore those whom Parliament had expelled. The Presbyterians took the
Oath of Allegiance and Supremacy, and were allowed to hold their places
unless some ejected fellow or scholar appeared to claim them. But at
Lincoln, where the Independent faction was strong, several fellows were
turned out, George Hitchcock among them. He defied the bedel who was
sent to arrest him when he refused to go. With a drawn sword and a
sported oak Hitchcock remained master of the situation until the arrival
of the military who, undaunted, stormed the Independent's castle and
marched him off to jail.
Life at Oxford resolved itself at last to peace and quiet study.
"The tumult and the shouting dies,
The Captains and the Kings depart"--
and the groves and quadrangles that had echoed with the clash of arms,
the loud laugh of roystering Cavaliers, or the gentle rustle of sweeping
trains, or the whining of a Puritan, now resounded with the noise of the
bowling-green and tennis-court, or the chamber music of such scholarly
enthusiasts as Anthony Wood with his fiddle, and Edmund Gregory with his
bass viol.
With the Restoration a new kind of student came into prominence. Very
different from his mediæval brother was the new type of rich "young
gentleman" so wittily satirised by Dr Earle, as one who came to Oxford
to wear a gown and to say hereafter that he had been at the University.
"His father sent him thither because he heard that there were the best
fencing and dancing schools.... Of all things he endures not to be
mistaken for a scholar." For it was now the fashion for students to live
like men of the world, to keep dogs and horses, to swash it in apparel,
to wear long periwigs. They discussed public affairs and read the
newsletters in the coffee-houses. For Canopus, the Cretan, had set the
example of drinking coffee, and in 1651 Jacob the Jew opened a
coffee-house at the Angel. Four years later Arthur Tillyard, "an
apothecary and great Royalist, sold coffee publicly in his house against
All Souls' College. He was encouraged to do so," says Wood, "by some
royalists and by the company of 'Vertuosi,' chiefly All Souls' men,
amongst whom was numbered Christopher Wren."
With the Restoration, too, the study of mere Divinity began to go out of
fashion, and a humane interest in letters began to manifest itself.
Plays, poems and drollery, the old-fashioned scholars complained, were
in request. Science, too, suddenly became fashionable. Charles and the
Duke of Buckingham took a keen interest in chemistry; Prince Rupert
solaced his old age with the glass drops which are called after his
name. At Oxford many scholars already had private laboratories. Robert
Boyle and Peter Sthael had for some time been lecturing on chemistry at
the Ram Inn (113 High Street) to the curious, John Locke included. The
King now gave its title to the Royal Society, which had its origin in
the inquiries of a little group of scientific students in London before
the end of the Civil War. It was now divided into two by the removal of
its foremost members, Dr Wilkins, Warden of Wadham, and Dr Wallis,
Savilian Professor of Geometry, to Oxford. The Oxford branch of the
[Illustration: View from the Sheldonian Theatre.]
society was strengthened by such men as Sir William Petty, the first of
English economists, Dr Ward, the mathematician, Robert Boyle and
Christopher Wren. In the lodgings of Wilkins or Petty they would meet
and discuss the circulation of the blood or the shape of Saturn, the
Copernican hypothesis, the improvement of telescopes or Nature's
abhorrence of a vacuum--any subject, in fact, which did not lead them
into the bogs of theology or politics.
"That miracle of a youth," Dr Christopher Wren, was one of those deputed
by the University (1667) to take a letter of thanks to Henry Howard,
heir to the Duke of Norfolk, for his princely gift of the Arundel
Marbles to the University. This gift the University owed to the kindly
offices of John Evelyn, the diarist. The marbles were laid in the
Proscholium till the Sheldonian Theatre was finished. Ingeniously
designed by Wren to accommodate the University at the "Act" or
"Encænia," this theatre was consecrated by Archbishop Sheldon (1669), at
whose cost it was erected. Sheldon was a warden of All Souls', put out
under the Commonwealth and afterwards restored, before being promoted to
the Primacy.
Wren left many other marks of his genius upon Oxford. The chapel of
B.N.C. is said to be from his design, and may be, for it reveals the
struggle that was going on (1656) between the Oxford Gothic, as the
beautiful fan-tracery of the ceiling and the windows bear witness, and
the Italian style of the rest of the building. Wren migrated from Wadham
to All Souls', presenting on his departure a clock (now in the
ante-chapel) to the college where he had been a fellow-commoner. In the
college of which he, with Sydenham, was made a fellow under the
Commonwealth, he made the great and accurate sun-dial, with its motto
"Pereunt et Imputantur," that adorns the back quadrangle. His pupil
Hawksmoor it was who designed the twin towers of All Souls' and the
quadrangle at Queen's, whilst Wren himself designed the chapel, which he
reckoned one of his best works. At Trinity he gave advice to Dean
Aldrich, made suggestions which were not taken, and actually designed
the north wing of the garden quadrangle, one of the first Italian
buildings in Oxford. At Christ Church he added, as we have seen, the
octagonal cupola to Wolsey's Tower. The buttresses in Exeter Garden
which support the Bodleian are also the result of his advice. The
beautifully proportioned building close to the Sheldonian was presently
built (1683, Wood, architect) by the University to house the valuable
collection of curiosities presented to it by Elias Ashmole.
When the plague broke out in London, Charles and his court fled to
Oxford (September 1665), where, since July, a watch had been set to keep
out infected persons flying from London. The King and Duke of York
lodged at Christ Church; whilst, all under the rank of master at Merton
having been sent to their homes, the Queen took up her abode there till
the following February. Once more courtiers filled the college instead
of scholars; the loose manners of the court were introduced into the
college precincts; the King's mistress, Lady Castlemaine, bore him a
bastard in December, and libels were pinned up on the doors of Merton
concerning that event. It is sadly recorded that founders' prayers had
to be recited in English, because there were more women than scholars in
the chapel. And as for the courtiers, though they were neat and gay in
their apparel, yet were they, so says the offended scholar, "very nasty
and beastly; rude, rough, whoremongers; vain, empty and careless."
The House of Lords sat in the Geometry School, the House of Commons in
the Convocation House, whilst the Divinity School and the Greek School
were employed as a committee room and the Star Chamber. After sitting
for a month and passing the Act which prohibited dissenting ministers
from coming within five miles of any city, Parliament broke up in
October. When this Act was suspended in 1672 and Nonconformists were
allowed to meet in towns, provided they took out a licence, the
Independents
[Illustration: Quadrangle & Library All Souls' College.]
and Baptists set up meeting-houses in Oxford, the Baptists meeting first
in Magdalen Street and then in S. Ebbe's Parish. The Nonconformist
chapels were destroyed in the Jacobite riot of 1715, but in 1720 a new
chapel was built behind the present chapel in the New Road by the
Baptists and Presbyterians in common.
The _Oxford Gazette_ made its first appearance during Charles' visit,
the first number coming out on 7th November 1665.
Again, in 1681, Parliament was summoned by Charles II. to meet at Oxford
on 21st March. He had written in January choosing Merton, Corpus and
Christ Church to house him, his Queen, his Court[38] and his Parliament.
The scholars as usual departed, but in a week the King dissolved the
wicked, or week-ed, Parliament, and the collegians returned to their
quarters and the use of their silver plate, which they had wisely hidden
from their guests.
"We scholars were expelled awhile to let the Senators in,
But they behaved themselves so ill that we returned again,"
sang the poet of the day. For the rest of his reign the monarch was
nearly absolute. "Now I am King of England, and was not before," he
remarked; and he signalised his victory over the Exclusionist Party, who
wished to guard against the danger of a Catholic king, by procuring, at
Oxford, the condemnation of Stephen College, a Protestant joiner, who
was forthwith hung in the Castle-yard.
The sudden influx of so many persons into the town was calculated to
send up the price of provisions. The Vice-Chancellor accordingly took
the precaution of fixing a limit to the market prices. A pound of
butter, for instance, sweet and new, the best in the market, was not to
cost more than 6d.; six eggs 2d.; or a fat pig, the best in the market,
2s. 6d.; whilst not more than 2s. 8d. was to be charged in every inn for
a bushel of the best oats.
[Illustration: Oriel Windows Queen's Lane.]
Meantime the University was not in too flourishing a state. "All those
we call Whigs," Wood complains, "will not send their sons for fear of
their turning Tories, and because the Universities are suspected of
being Popish." And Stephen Penton, the Principal who built the chapel
and library of S. Edmund's Hall (1680), thought it expedient to write
that charming little book, "The Guardian's Instruction," in answer to
the "rash and uncharitable censure of the idle, ignorant, debauched,
Popish University." But the manners of the place are indicated by such
facts as these: "The Act was put off because 'twas said the
Vice-Chancellor was sickish from bibbing and smoking and drinking claret
a whole afternoon." In 1685 the mayor and aldermen, who had been
splendidly entertained by the Earl of Abingdon in return for their
election of his brother to represent them in Parliament, "came home most
of them drunk and fell off their horses." About the same time three
masters of All Souls' came drunk to the Mitre in the middle of the
night, and because the landlady refused to get up and prepare them some
food, they called her "strange names and told her she deserved to have
her throat cut, whereupon being extremely frighted, she fell into fits
and died." The masters were examined by the Vice-Chancellor and
compelled to "recant in the Convocation." A few months later a
debauched Master of Arts of New Inn was expelled for biting a piece off
the nose of a B.N.C. B.A.
At Balliol the buildings were literally falling to pieces, and it was
the solace of Dr Bathurst's old age to sit on his garden wall--he was
President of Trinity--and throw stones at the few windows that still
contained any glass, "as if happy to contribute his share in completing
the appearance of its ruin." This was the same Dr Bathurst, who as
Vice-Chancellor, according to Prideaux' story, had already done his best
to encourage the "men of Belial" to deserve the nickname bestowed upon
them by Nicholas Amherst.[39]
"There is," wrote Prideaux, "over against Balliol a dingy, horrid,
scandalous ale-house, fit for none but draymen and tinkers. Here
the Balliol men continually lie and by perpetual bubbing add art to
their natural stupidity to make themselves perfect sots."
The master (Dr Goode, a good, honest old toast, and sometime a Puritan)
remonstrated with them and
"informed them of the mischiefs of that hellish liquor called ale.
But one of them, not willing to be preached so tamely out of his
beloved liquor, made reply that the Vice-Chancellor's men drank ale
at the Split Crow and why should they not too? The old man, being
nonplussed with this reply, immediately packeth away to the
Vice-Chancellor, formerly an old lover of ale himself,"
who informed him that there was no hurt in ale. Accordingly the master
told his men that since the Vice-Chancellor said there was no hurt in
ale, though truly he thought there was, he would give them leave to
drink it. "So now," Prideaux concludes, "they may be sots by authority."
In 1682, Wood notes, "fighting occasioned by drunkenness fell out in S.
John's common chamber." Common rooms, it may be observed, which were
regarded as a luxurious innovation, had been introduced into Oxford in
1661 by Merton, where the room over the kitchen, with the cock-loft over
it, was turned into a room "for the common use of the Fellows." Other
colleges quickly followed an example which had been set eleven years
before in the Combination Room of Trinity at Cambridge.
The accession of James II. was hailed at Oxford with many expressions of
loyalty. A large bonfire was lit at Carfax and five barrels of beer
broached in the Town Hall, to be drunk by all comers. There were
bonfires in all the colleges, where the respective societies drank a
health, kneeling, to the King and Royal Family. At Merton, Wood tells
us, "the gravest and greatest seniors of the house were mellow that
night, as at other Colleges." And the coronation was celebrated by a
sermon and bonfire at S. Mary's and "great extraordinaries in eating and
drinking in each College." But there were many townsmen who had been
ready (1683) to shout for "a Monmouth! a Monmouth! no York!" and after
Monmouth's Rebellion, when the University raised a regiment, whose
uniforms at any rate were gallant, several of the citizens were arrested
as rebels. It was not long before the bigotry and tyranny of James drove
the University itself into that resistance to the royal authority which
was so alien to its teaching and tradition. For James set himself to
convert the training-place of the English clergy into a Roman Catholic
seminary.
The accession of a sovereign attached to the Roman Church had been the
signal for many who had hitherto concealed their opinions to avow their
devotion to that communion. The Master of University College was one of
those who had conformed to the rites of the Anglican Church whilst
supporting so far as he dared, in the pulpit and the press, the
doctrines of Rome. He now openly avowed his conversion and did his
utmost to promote the Roman Catholic cause. Ave Maria Obadiah, as he was
nicknamed from an academic catch of the time, was authorised by the King
to appropriate some college rooms for a chapel under the Roman ritual.
He had already been absolved by a royal dispensation from the duty of
attending the services of the Church of England, and from taking the
Oaths of Allegiance and Supremacy. Walker's doings were at first
received with ridicule and then with indignation. But secure of the
King's favour, he continued on his Romanising way. He erected a press at
the back of the college, and published, under royal licence, a series of
controversial books maintaining Romish doctrines. The University was
disgusted and alarmed at this deliberate attempt to undermine the
National Church in the very centre of its chief stronghold. A pamphlet
war ensued, but it was a war in which the King made it evident on the
occasion of a visit to Oxford in 1687 that he was on the side of
Obadiah. A statue of the monarch was set up over the gateway of the
large quadrangle of University College to commemorate the visit of the
royal "reformer of heresy."
At Christ Church, meanwhile, Massey, a convert and creature of Walker,
had been appointed dean by the Crown and installed without protest by
the Chapter. The old refectory of Canterbury College was fitted up as a
private chapel for the dean's use, and James attended mass there. At All
Souls', too, the fellows had admitted as warden the nominee planted on
them by the royal prerogative. But James was not to have it all his own
way with the colleges. Men had stiffer backs at Magdalen.
The office of President was vacant. The King recommended for election
Anthony Farmer, a disreputable Cantab of notoriously bad character, who
had migrated to Oxford, and who, never having been fellow either of
Magdalen or New College, had no qualification for the presidentship. But
he was reputed to be inclined to Romanism. This virtue was apparently
sufficient in James' eyes; he ignored the objections stated by the
fellows. The fellows in turn ignored the mandate of James and elected Dr
Hough, a man to whom there could be no objection. Cited to appear before
the Ecclesiastical Commission on complaint that they had disregarded
the King's mandate, the Vice-President and fellows, through their
delegates, justified their action by reference to their statutes and the
character of Farmer. Jefferies, who presided, had to admit that Farmer
was proved to the court to be "a very bad man." The college was
commanded to elect another tool of the King's, Parker, Bishop of Oxford.
The college held that the place of President was already filled. To
enforce obedience, James now came over from Woodstock (3rd September) in
person.
The King wore a scarlet coat, and an old beaver hat edged with a little
lace, not worth a groat, as some of the people shouted. He proceeded
very slowly to the North Gate, where he found eight poor women all clad
in white, some of whom strewed the way before the King with herbs,
"which made a very great smell in all the street, continuing so all
the night till the rain came. When he came to Quatervois he was
entertained with the wind music or waits belonging to the city and
University, who stood over the Penniless Bench--all which time and
after the Conduit ran claret for the vulgar."
The fellows of Magdalen were summoned to the royal presence in Christ
Church Hall, where they were rudely reprimanded and bidden to go to
their chapel and elect the bishop forthwith or they should know what it
was to feel the weight of a king's hand. "Is this your Church of England
loyalty?" James cried. "Get you gone. I am King. I will be obeyed!"
Curious to think that William Penn, who had formerly been sent down from
Christ Church for Nonconformity, was present at this scene; and a
servitor of Exeter, the father of the Wesleys, quitted it, "resolved to
give the tyrant no kind of support." The fellows protested their
loyalty, but declared that it was not in their power to do what the King
required. Penn, the courtly Quaker, endeavoured to bring about a
compromise, but seems to have been convinced at last that an agreement
was impossible. Hough's comment on these negotiations was, "It is
resolved that the Papists must have our College. All that we can do is,
to let the world see that they take it from us, and that we do not give
it up." A commission was appointed. Hough, who refused to surrender his
lodgings, was declared contumacious, and his name was struck off the
books. His lodgings were broken open; Parker was introduced. Twenty-five
of the fellows were expelled, and were declared incapable of
ecclesiastical preferment. The demies, who refused to recognise Parker,
were not interfered with by the commission; they remained in the college
holding chapel services and disputations among themselves and ignoring
the Papist fellows who were being introduced. When they refused to obey
the officers nominated by the King, eighteen of them were expelled.
Parker died, and Gifford, a Papist of the Sorbonne, was appointed. All
but two of the original fellows were now ejected, and their places were
being filled up with Roman Catholics when it was brought home to James
that he had been going too fast. He began to bid desperately for the
support he had alienated. He restored the ejected fellows, but they had
scarcely returned when William's supporters, under Lord Lovelace,
entered Oxford in force. They were received at the East Gate by the
mayor and magistrates in their black gowns, who went with them up the
High Street amid the shouts and congratulations of the people.
Meantime the Master of University had fled to London with his nominee,
the Dean of Christ. He was captured by the mob and thrown into the Tower
on a charge of high treason. And at Oxford "trade," to use the judicious
metaphor of an Oxford priest, "declined." The Jesuits, who had been "in
a very hopeful way and had three public shops (chapels) open" there,
found all their schemes frustrated. The intrigue and plotting of years
were brought to nought.
The Coronation of William and Mary was observed by a special Act
ceremony, in which one of the pieces recited was "Magdalena Ridens,"
Magdalen smiling in triumph at the flight of her oppressor. October 25,
1688, was the day on which James had restored the ejected fellows. Ever
since the college has observed that day, and yearly the members pledge
each other in a loving-cup, _Jus suum cuique_.