A history of the University of Oxford

by George C. Brodrick

Eminent members of the University in the generation preceding the Civil Wars

Whatever may have been the shortcomings of Oxford in the generation which preceded the Civil War, it certainly produced a number of men whose learning and piety might have adorned a happier and more peaceful age. Among the Heads of colleges who held office under Laud’s short chancellorship were John Prideaux, Sir Nathaniel Brent, Gilbert Sheldon, Brian Duppa, Samuel Fell, and Juxon, and while the headships of colleges were filled by such men as these, others not less eminent represented the University in other capacities. In his rectory at Penshurst, and afterwards in his rooms at Christchurch, Hammond was maturing a theological knowledge which has placed him among standard English divines; Bainbridge was prosecuting at Merton important researches in astronomical science; Earle, afterwards tutor to Prince Charles, and bishop of Salisbury, was serving in the office of senior proctor; Selden was acting as burgess for the University; and Brian Twyne was amassing those antiquarian stores which supplied the most valuable materials for the marvellous industry of Anthony Wood.

University life in the generation preceding the Civil Wars

The characteristic features of University life in the period immediately preceding the Civil War contrasted equally with those which had distinguished it in the Middle Ages and those which distinguish it in the present day. The academical community had become far less democratic and more outwardly decorous since the suppression of ‘chamber-dekyns,’ and the concentration of all the students into colleges and halls. The Heads of colleges, invested with special privileges and absolute control over University legislation, were now permanently resident, and had greater power of keeping good order than had ever belonged to the proctors, vainly striving to enforce discipline among thousands of beggarly non-collegiate students. On the other hand, there was less unity in college society; for, while Bachelor fellows were still an inferior grade, and bound to ‘cap’ Master fellows in the quadrangles, a new class of ‘commoners’ had sprung up, mostly consisting of richer men, and holding aloof from members of the foundation. ‘Town and gown rows’ were not unknown, and the ancient jealousy between the city and the University was intensified by the growth of religious and political differences; but the peace was far better kept, and the streets of Oxford were no longer the scene of sanguinary affrays. Whether the morality of the students was essentially improved is open to more doubt. Judging by the constant repetition of censures on their conduct from chancellors and Visitors, we might infer that Oxford was quite demoralised. After all, however, most of these censures are not so much directed against grave offences as against extravagance in dress and breaches of academical decorum, and it is impossible not to suspect that over-regulation had something to do with the perverse neglect of rules among undergraduates. It is the variety of legitimate outlets for youthful spirits and energy which in modern times has been found the best antidote for youthful vices, and if we realise the conditions of undergraduate society in the earlier part of the seventeenth century, we shall rather be disposed to wonder at the standard of virtue being so high as it seems to have been. One of these conditions was the overcrowding of colleges due to the disappearance of hostels. Where two or three students habitually shared the same room, and a poor scholar rarely enjoyed the comfort of a bed to himself, unless it were a truckle-bed in his patron’s chamber, the self-respect and graceful courtesy which is now traditional among well-bred young Englishmen at the University could scarcely be cultivated at all. The tutorial system already existed in colleges, and the personal relations thus established between tutors and pupils were sometimes productive of very beneficial results; but outside these relations there was little sympathy and kindly intercourse between members of different colleges or different classes in the same college. Manly sports were not unknown, but they were chiefly of the rougher sort, and discouraged by the authorities. We hear little of boating, or even of riding, and cricket had not yet been invented, but football was vigorously played, and led to so many warlike encounters between the combatants that it was regarded with little favour by vice-chancellors. Archery was still practised, as well as quoits, and ninepins or skittles, but these last games were coupled with bull-baiting, bear-baiting, cock-fights, common plays, and public shows, in official warnings to undergraduates against unlawful pastimes. Even James I., who prided himself on his ‘Book of Sports’ as much as on his invectives against tobacco, issued royal letters condemning them, apparently because, though not intrinsically evil, they brought great crowds of people together, who might break out into disorder. In short, it may safely be said that an Oxford student in the reigns of James I. and Charles I. had less recognised liberty than a public-school boy in the reign of Victoria, the natural result of which was that he was all the more disposed to rebel against discipline. Meanwhile his studies, though mainly classical in their subjects, and mainly conducted within the walls of his college, were largely scholastic in their methods. The University was still, above all, a training-school for the clerical profession rather than for the general world.

CHAPTER XI.
THE UNIVERSITY DURING THE CIVIL WARS, AND THE SIEGE OF OXFORD.

The University sides with the King and the Church

The part to be taken by the University of Oxford in the great national struggle now impending was never for a moment doubtful. Throughout its history it had loyally acknowledged not merely the supremacy of the Crown, in its capacity of paramount Visitor, but the jurisdiction of the High Commission and other exertions of the prerogative lately challenged by the Commons, while it stood committed by its own solemn vote to the doctrine of passive obedience. It was still more closely identified with the Church. Its property had always been treated in ancient times as ecclesiastical, being constantly taxed by votes of the Convocation of Canterbury, and constantly exempted, by royal letters, from taxes payable on the lands and tenements of laymen. Its representatives had attended the great Councils of the Western Church; its Chancellor had always been a great ecclesiastic until the Reformation; nearly all the Visitors of its colleges were still great ecclesiastics; and the recent imposition of test-oaths, including those prescribed by a purely ecclesiastical canon, on all its students, coupled with the clerical restrictions on most college fellowships, had effectually rendered it an integral part of the Anglican Church. No doubt, it contained a strong Puritan element which sympathised with the Parliament, but the overwhelming majority were heartily on the side of the Church and the King, and proved themselves capable of great sacrifices for the cause which they espoused. The first overt act of the University in support of these principles was taken on April 24, 1641, in the form of a ‘Petition made to the high and honourable Court of Parliament in behalf of Episcopacy and Cathedralls.’ This petition was accompanied by another to the same effect, bearing the signatures of almost all the resident graduates, and derives additional significance from its date. But a few months before, the canons lately passed by the Convocation of Canterbury had been declared illegal by the Commons, and the Bill to exclude bishops from the House of Lords had just been introduced. Nevertheless, the University did not hesitate to press upon Parliament, now in no placable mood, the duty of maintaining not only ‘the ancient and Apostolicall Order’ of bishops, but also ‘those pious Foundations of Cathedrall Churches, with their Lands and Revenewes.’ Some of the reasons alleged in support of the petition are grave and weighty; others, if less solid, are still more interesting as indications of the light in which Church preferments were then regarded by University graduates. For instance, cathedral endowments are extolled ‘as the principal outward motive of all Students, especially in Divinitie, and the fittest reward of some deep and eminent Scholars; as affording a competent portion in an ingenuous way to many younger Brothers of good Parentage who devote themselves to the Ministery of the Gospell; as the onely meanes of subsistence to a multitude of Officers and other Ministers, who with their families depend upon them; as the maine Authors or Upholders of divers Schooles, Hospitalls, Highwaies, Bridges, and other publique and pious works; as the cheife support of many thousand families of the Laity, who enjoy faire estates from them in a free way; and as funds by which many of the learned Professors in our University are maintained.’ It was hardly to be expected that such arguments should prevail with Pym and Hampden, Prynne and Holles; nor can we be surprised to learn that ‘the answer to it was very inconsiderable.’ It was, however, presented to the King on the following day, and his reply, preserved by Anthony Wood, is memorable as showing how resolutely he linked the fortunes of his Crown with those of the Church. He declared openly that he knew the clergy were suffering because of their fidelity to him, protested that he would rather feed on bread and water than ‘mingle any part of God’s patrimonie with his owne revenewes;’ insisted that ‘Learning and Studies must needs perish if the honors and rewards of Learning were destroyed;’ and predicted that ‘Monarchy would not stand long if the Hierarchy perish.’

The Commons issue an order for the University

Within a month after the presentation of this petition Strafford had been executed, and the ‘Root and Branch Bill’ for the complete abolition of Episcopacy had been read in the Commons. Two months later (July 1641) the Courts of Star Chamber and High Commission, with the arbitrary jurisdiction of the King’s Council, had ceased to exist. On November 22 the ‘Grand Remonstrance’ was passed, containing an elaborate indictment against the Crown for all the unconstitutional acts committed since the beginning of the reign, and an appeal to the people of England. Then followed in quick succession the King’s attempt to arrest the five members in the House of Commons, his final departure from London, his refusal to place the custody of fortified places and the command of the militia in the hands of the Parliament, the levy of forces on both sides, the rejection by the King of an ultimatum sent by the Parliament, and the erection of the royal standard at Nottingham, on August 22, 1642. Of these momentous events the University was, of course, a mere spectator; but the House of Commons found leisure, in the midst of its preparations for war, to guard its own interests at Oxford. On June 28, 1641, it issued an order purporting to abolish the obligation of subscription to the Three Articles of the Thirty-sixth Canon, as well as that of doing reverence to the Communion-table, which seems to have been enjoined in some of the colleges. This order was actually read in Convocation, and was followed in February 1642 by the receipt of a ‘Protestation,’ which the Speaker, in the name of the House, called upon the vice-chancellor and Heads of colleges to take and impose upon all members, and even servants, of the University, being of the age of eighteen years and upwards. This Protestation, conceived in a moderate tone, bound the subscriber to uphold Protestantism and the union between the three kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland. As it contained a profession of allegiance to the Crown, as well as of respect for the power and privileges of Parliament, it was generally signed, though many loyal Protestants objected to it as dictated by a party on the verge of rebellion.

Contribution for the King’s service, and first occupation of Oxford by Parliamentary troops