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.