The famous riot of St. Scholastica’s Day, 1354, may be regarded as the sequel of a similar fray in 1297. Both were simply violent eruptions of a deep-seated feud between the University and city of Oxford, which had been growing for several generations. In the year 1290, these bodies appeared by their deputies before the King and Parliament, when certain articles of peace were concluded, under Royal authority, which exhibit in a compendious form the main grievances of the citizens. Most of these grievances relate to alleged abuses of the Chancellor’s criminal jurisdiction; others have reference to more or less oppressive privileges of the University, such as its claim to something like fixity of rent, if not of tenure, for houses in the occupation of scholars. On each point submitted to him the King’s award is conspicuous for its good sense and moderation.
Riot of 1297 and agreement of 1298
The complaints here formulated in the most authentic shape enable us to understand the bitter animosity which aggravated town-and-gown rows of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries into sanguinary conflicts sometimes bordering upon civil war. Contests about municipal franchises, prices of provisions, and rents of halls or inns, were eagerly fanned into a flame by the impetuous passions of youth, unrestrained by the kindlier sentiments of humanity and respect for others which temper party-spirit in this happier age. But seven years had elapsed since this award of Edward I. had been made, when, as Anthony Wood tells us, ‘there arose a grievous discord between the clerks and laics of Oxford, occasioned by the fighting of two servants of various countries that were upon some small occasion invited thereunto.’ Several murderous affrays had already taken place since the incident thus noticed, before any general muster of townspeople or students took place. In the meantime the Chancellor exerted himself to restore order, but several aldermen and leading citizens headed the mob, who sacked various scholars’ houses and defeated a body of gownsmen on the favourite battle-ground of the Beaumont. After this it appears the Chancellor declined to comply with the mayor’s request that he would confine the gownsmen to their inns. Accordingly, on the following day the bells of St. Mary’s, as well as of St. Martin’s, called the combatants to arms, and several thousands are said to have engaged in the desperate fray which ensued. At first the gownsmen carried all before them, being superior both in weapons and in defensive armour, and broke open many shops and dwellings of the burghers. But the death of their leader and the irruption of rustic labourers from the country to aid the townspeople ultimately turned the tide of battle against them. Once compelled to retreat, they were hunted down and brutally maltreated by the populace; several were killed; others were torn from the sanctuaries to which they had fled, and driven with whips and goads into the castle gaol. The ordinary retribution followed. The citizens implicated in the disturbance were excommunicated by the Bishop of Lincoln; some of the worst offenders were consigned to the Chancellor’s prison; two bailiffs were removed from their office, and other persons were banished from Oxford. A ‘final agreement’ made between the University and city in 1298, and preserved in the University archives, records these sentences, together with a general amnesty for all other offences prior to the agreement, and a renewed promise on the part of the City to respect all the privileges of the University.
Great riot of 1354
How long this truce lasted we have no means of knowing, but no equally murderous encounter took place at Oxford until St. Scholastica’s Day, Feb. 10, 1354.[6] Like the riot of 1297, it arose out of a trumpery squabble, but was carried on for three days with all the savage fury of an Irish faction fight. Two students drinking at the Swyndlestock, or Mermaid, tavern, near Carfax, assaulted the landlord, and were forcibly ejected. Again the bell of St. Martin’s was rung by order of the mayor, and that of St. Mary’s by order of the Chancellor, at whom an arrow had been shot by one of the citizens. In the disturbances which immediately followed no one seems to have been mortally wounded; but on the following morning, notwithstanding the efforts of the Chancellor, ostensibly seconded by the mayor, a general battle was commenced by the citizens, armed with bows and arrows, who drove the scholars out of the Augustine schools, cleared the whole northern suburb of their enemies, and sent messengers to call in reinforcements from the neighbouring villages. To bar the entrance of these auxiliaries, the scholars made themselves masters of the northern and eastern gates; but the villagers, making a circuit, poured in by the west gate, numbering, it is said, nearly 2,000, and swept the streets with fierce cries of ‘Slay, slay!’ ‘Havock and havock!’ The gownsmen were fairly overborne, and not only that evening but a great part of the next day was spent by the victorious townspeople in glutting their savage vengeance, pillaging hall after hall, and killing or wounding any scholar who fell into their hands; indeed, if we are to believe Anthony Wood, they went so far as to scalp more than one chaplain whom they captured, in contempt of the priestly tonsure.
Interdict and penance
Such an outrage roused the whole clerical order, and the Church took up the quarrel of the University as her own. After due inquiry an interdict was laid upon the city by the Bishop of Lincoln, and all the municipal authorities, if not all the lay inhabitants, were visited with ‘the major excommunication.’ They appear to have remained under ecclesiastical censure for some three years, since the relaxation of the interdict and the indenture of peace between the University and city bear date May 1357. We learn from these documents that at last the city made a complete and humble submission, confessing itself deserving of a like excommunication if it should ever again sin in like manner, and binding itself to accept whatever penance the Bishop should lay upon it. This penance consisted in the signature of a compact under which the mayor, bailiffs, and sixty leading citizens were obliged to attend mass every year in St. Mary’s Church on St. Scholastica’s Day, and to offer at the high altar one penny each, of which sum two-thirds was to be distributed at once by the proctors among poor scholars. The city also undertook to pay one hundred marks annually to the University by way of compensation on the same day, but was relieved from this obligation by a deed of even date, upon condition of the other compact being duly fulfilled.
New charter granted by the King
In the meantime, however, the mayor and burgesses had formally resigned their ancient franchises into the King’s hands, and the University received a new charter of privileges and immunities as a reward for the indignities to which it had been subjected on St. Scholastica’s Day. Under this charter, the Chancellor of the University obtained the sole control over the ‘assize’ of bread, wine, ale, and beer; over the ‘assay’ of weights and measures, with jurisdiction in all cases of ‘forestalling,’ ‘regrating,’ and selling unwholesome food; over the assessment of rates and taxes, the management of the streets, and like municipal affairs. He was also empowered to expel all disorderly students, and the provision for the forfeiture of their arms shows how generally arms were carried in those turbulent days. Moreover, though he was not as yet permitted to rescue and sit in judgment on scholars accused of treason, murder, or ‘mayhem,’ this privilege was afterwards conceded by letters patent of 1407; but it was provided that academical prisoners should be tried before a mixed jury of gownsmen and townspeople. It is not difficult to understand how galling such concessions must have been to the citizens of Oxford, and however gross the outrages for which they were the atonement, we can hardly wonder that a bitter grudge should have been cherished by the City against the University so long as they remained in force.