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Title: A history of the University of Oxford
Author: Brodrick, George C. (George Charles)
Language: English
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Epochs of Church History
EDITED BY
MANDELL CREIGHTON, D.D., LL.D.
BISHOP OF LONDON
THE
UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
EPOCHS OF CHURCH HISTORY.
Edited by MANDELL CREIGHTON, D.D., LL.D., BISHOP OF LONDON.
Fcap. 8vo, price 2_s._ 6_d._ each.
THE ENGLISH CHURCH IN OTHER LANDS. By the Rev. H. W. TUCKER, M.A.
THE HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION IN ENGLAND. By the Rev. GEORGE G.
PERRY, M.A.
THE CHURCH OF THE EARLY FATHERS. By ALFRED PLUMMER, D.D.
THE EVANGELICAL REVIVAL IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. By the Rev. J. H.
OVERTON, D.D.
A HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. By the Hon. G. C. BRODRICK,
D.C.L.
A HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. By J. BASS MULLINGER, M.A.
THE CHURCH AND THE ROMAN EMPIRE. By the Rev. A. CARR, M.A.
THE CHURCH AND THE PURITANS, 1570-1660. By HENRY OFFLEY WAKEMAN, M.A.
THE CHURCH AND THE EASTERN EMPIRE. By the Rev. H. F. TOZER, M.A.
HILDEBRAND AND HIS TIMES. By W. R. W. STEPHENS, B.D.
THE ENGLISH CHURCH IN THE MIDDLE AGES. By the Rev. W. HUNT, M.A.
THE POPES AND THE HOHENSTAUFEN. By UGO BALZANI.
THE COUNTER-REFORMATION. By A. W. WARD, Litt.D.
WYCLIFFE AND MOVEMENTS FOR REFORM. By R. L. POOLE, M.A., Ph.D.
THE ARIAN CONTROVERSY. By H. M. GWATKIN, M.A.
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY
A HISTORY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
BY THE
HON. G. C. BRODRICK, D.C.L.
WARDEN OF MERTON COLLEGE
_FOURTH IMPRESSION_
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1900
_All rights reserved_
PREFACE.
The present volume is an attempt to present in a succinct form the
history of an University which, however uncertain its origin, is among
the oldest institutions in Europe. The result of such a task must
needs fall very far short of perfection, and it is probably a just
appreciation of its difficulties which has deterred abler historians
from undertaking it. The voluminous remains of Anthony Wood contain
a mine of precious records, but they are singularly ill-arranged,
and his narrative breaks off long before the end of the seventeenth
century. The great monograph of Father Denifle, now in course of
publication, on the early history of European Universities, promises to
be an exhaustive discussion of its subject; but its enormous bulk and
unwieldy construction will repel most English readers, while it deals
only with the rudimentary development of academical constitutions. The
well-known compilation of Huber shows considerable research and grasp
of the subject, but it follows no historical order, and is disfigured
by much irrelevance and prejudice. The publications of the Oxford
Historical Society have already placed documents hitherto scarcely
accessible within the reach of ordinary students, but it will be
long before the series can be completed. All these works, as well as
the valuable ‘Munimenta Academica’ of Mr. Anstey, Professor Burrows’
‘Visitors’ Register,’ and many other treatises of less note, have been
freely consulted by me. I have also made use of the Merton College
Register, which has been kept with few interruptions since the year
1482, and of other MSS. documents in the possession of my own College.
But I have not thought it well to encumber the pages of so compendious
a narrative with constant references to authorities. My principal aim
has been to exhibit the various features and incidents of University
history, age by age, in their due proportion; dwelling more upon broad
and undisputed facts than upon comparatively obscure points which are
the natural field of antiquarian speculation or criticism. Guided by a
similar principle, I have not treated all periods of University history
with equal detail. Thus, I have devoted a large share of space to the
period of the Civil Wars, during which the University played a great
part in the national drama; while I have passed lightly over the reign
of George III., when the University had not only lost all political
importance, but had forfeited its reputation as a place of the highest
education and learning. In the selection of topics from so vast a mass
of materials, I have sought to preserve the continuity of events, so
far as possible, rather than to produce a series of essays on special
aspects of University life. I have deviated, however, from this method
in one or two instances, such as the chapter on Oxford politics in the
eighteenth century, and that on the Neo-Catholic Revival. In several of
the earlier chapters, and in those on Oxford in the present century, I
have borrowed the substance of passages from my own volume, ‘Memorials
of Merton College,’ and from articles on recent University reforms
contributed by myself to various periodicals. If I have succeeded in
bringing within a single view the successive phases of development
through which the University has passed in the course of seven hundred
years, and in paving the way for a more comprehensive and detailed
history, the object of this little volume will have been attained.
GEORGE C. BRODRICK.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PREFACE v
CHAPTER I.
THE RISE OF THE UNIVERSITY.
Mythical origin of the University—Early Schools of
Oxford—Intellectual revival of the twelfth century—Lectures of
Vacarius, and first germs of the University—Connection of
Oxford with the University of Paris—Recognition of the
scholars by the Papal Legate after the riot of 1209—Office
of Chancellor—University chests, and sources of revenue in
the thirteenth century—Rise of Halls—Early University
charters 1
CHAPTER II.
THE EARLY COLLEGES.
Rise of Colleges—Foundation of University and Balliol—Foundation
of Merton College—Merton College, Statutes of, 1274—Social
position, manners, and academical life of early
students—‘Chamber-dekyns’—Street brawls and disorders—Superiority
of colleges in discipline and tuition 15
CHAPTER III.
PROGRESS OF THE UNIVERSITY IN THE
FOURTEENTH CENTURY.
Europe in the fourteenth century—Social condition of the
University—Intellectual vigour of the University—Foundation
of Exeter, Oriel, Queen’s, and Canterbury Colleges—Foundation
of New College—European influence of Oxford in the
fourteenth century—Rise of Wyclif—Career of Wyclif—Feud
between Northern and Southern ‘nations’—Early
secessions to Cambridge and Northampton—Secession to
Stamford in 1333—Growth of the proctorial authority—Concession
by the Pope of freedom in the election of the
Chancellor 27
CHAPTER IV.
CONFLICTS BETWEEN THE UNIVERSITY AND THE CITY.
Royal award of 1290—Riot of 1297 and agreement of 1298—Great
riot of 1354—Interdict and penance—New charter
granted by the King 43
CHAPTER V.
THE MONKS AND FRIARS AT OXFORD.
Benedictines and Augustinians—Rise of Mendicant Orders—Claustral
schools—Migration from Paris and influence of
Robert Grostete—Position of the friars at Oxford, and University
statutes against them—Intervention of the Pope and
the King 48
CHAPTER VI.
THE UNIVERSITY IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.
Decline in numbers and studies—University delegates at the
Councils of Constance and Basle—Foundation of Lincoln
and All Souls’ Colleges—Extension of University buildings;
the Divinity School and the Bodleian Library—Final
organisation of mediæval lectures and examinations—University
curriculum—Statute of 1431, regulating ‘inception’—Duties
of regent masters—Residence for degrees in the
higher faculties 55
CHAPTER VII.
THE RENAISSANCE, THE REFORMATION, AND
THE TUDOR PERIOD.
Revival of academical life at the end of the fifteenth century—Checked
by the Reformation—Pioneers of the new learning
at Oxford—Erasmus, More, Colet, Grocyn, and Linacre—Foundation
of Corpus Christi College by Bishop Fox—Greeks
and Trojans—Cardinal Wolsey and the foundation
of Christ Church—Action of the University on the questions
of the Divorce and the Royal Supremacy—Compliance of
the University rewarded by royal favour—The first effects
of the Reformation injurious to the University—Iconoclastic
Visitation under Edward VI.—Leniency towards colleges—Reaction
under Mary. Martyrdom of Ridley, Latimer, and
Cranmer—Visitation and reforms of Cardinal Pole—Foundation
of Trinity and St. John’s Colleges 68
CHAPTER VIII.
REIGN OF ELIZABETH AND CHANCELLORSHIP
OF LEICESTER.
Visitation under Elizabeth and policy of Archbishop
Parker—Chancellorship of Leicester—Changes in the government of
the University—Leicester’s administration of the
University—Depression of intellectual life in the
University—Encouragement of study by Elizabeth, and foundation of
the Bodleian Library—Increasing refinement of academical life—Queen
Elizabeth’s two visits to Oxford—Pestilences and
disturbances in the sixteenth century 87
CHAPTER IX.
THE UNIVERSITY UNDER JAMES I.
The University patronised by James I.—James I.’s attitude
towards the University and the Church—Rise and influence
of Laud—Completion of the ‘Schools,’ and foundation of
Wadham and Pembroke Colleges 100
CHAPTER X.
THE UNIVERSITY UNDER CHARLES I. AND LAUD.
Parliament at Oxford—Chancellorship of Laud—Compilation of
Laudian statutes—Main provisions of the Laudian statutes—Studies
and examinations under the Laudian statutes—Services
of Laud to the University—Last five years of
Laud’s chancellorship—Eminent members of the University
in the generation preceding the Civil Wars—University life
in the generation preceding the Civil Wars 107
CHAPTER XI.
THE UNIVERSITY DURING THE CIVIL WARS AND THE
SIEGE OF OXFORD.
The University sides with the King and the Church—The Commons
issue an order for the University—Contributions for
the King’s service, and first occupation of Oxford by Parliamentary
troops—Oxford becomes the royal head-quarters—Aspect
of the University during the Queen’s residence—The
last two years of the civil war—Siege of Oxford, and proposals
of Fairfax guaranteeing University privileges—Surrender
of Oxford, and subsequent condition of the University 122
CHAPTER XII.
THE PARLIAMENTARY VISITATION AND THE
COMMONWEALTH.
Measures preparatory to the Visitation—Appointment of the
Visitors and the Standing Committee of Parliament—Early
proceedings of the Visitors, and suppression of resistance
from the University—Visitation of colleges. Submissions
and expulsions—Reception of Fairfax and Cromwell—Second
Board of Visitors—Third Board of Visitors, and conclusion
of the Visitation—State of the University on the
recovery of its independence 138
CHAPTER XIII.
THE PERIOD BETWEEN THE RESTORATION AND
THE REVOLUTION.
The Restoration and new Visitation of the University—Extension
of University buildings. Sheldonian Theatre—Growth
of æsthetic tastes and social refinement—First visit of
Charles II.—Second visit of Charles II. Parliament assembled
and dissolved at Oxford—Doctrine of passive resistance
adopted by the University. Expulsion of Locke—Conduct
of the University on the outbreak of Monmouth’s
rebellion. James II.’s treatment of Magdalen College 151
CHAPTER XIV.
UNIVERSITY POLITICS BETWEEN THE REVOLUTION
AND THE ACCESSION OF GEORGE III.
Attitude of the University towards the Revolution. Visit of
William III.—Origin of Oxford Jacobitism. Visit of Queen
Anne—Popularity of Sacheverell. Position of the Whig
minority—Jacobite demonstrations. A troop of horse sent
to Oxford—The Constitution Club. Government scheme for
reforming the University—Gradual decline of Jacobitism
in Oxford during the reign of George II.—Revival of loyalty
after the accession of George III.—His visits to Oxford 162
CHAPTER XV.
UNIVERSITY STUDIES IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
Decay of University education in the eighteenth century—Contemporary
evidence—Decline in numbers and dearth of
eminence in science and literature—Counter-evidence showing
that education and learning were not wholly neglected 174
CHAPTER XVI.
THE UNIVERSITY DURING THE REIGNS OF GEORGE III.
AND GEORGE IV.
Stagnation of University legislation in the eighteenth
century—Statutes affecting the University—Political sympathies of
the University after the outbreak of the French Revolution—Accessions
to professoriate in the eighteenth century—Architectural
improvements—Effects of the French war upon the University.—Opposition
to reforms—Reception of the Allied Sovereigns.—Abolition of the
Mayor’s Oath 183
CHAPTER XVII.
OXFORD STUDIES AND EXAMINATIONS IN THE
NINETEENTH CENTURY.
Examination statute of 1800, and later amendments—Examination
statute of 1850, and later amendments—University
Commission of 1850—Act of 1854 and new College Ordinances—Effect
of these reforms—Abolition of University
tests—Local examinations, and board for examination of
public schools—Commission of inquiry (1872) and Act of
1876—Commission of 1877—Character of last reforms 191
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE NEO-CATHOLIC REVIVAL, KNOWN AS THE ‘OXFORD
MOVEMENT.’
Character of the ‘Oxford Movement’—A reaction against the
rising tide of Liberalism—Oriel the centre of the Movement—John
Henry Newman—Origin of ‘Tracts for the Times’—Association
formed—Newman assumes the lead—Spread
and objects of the movement.—Publication of Tract XC.—Collapse
of Tractarianism, and secession of Newman—The
‘Hampden Controversy’—Proceedings against Pusey and
Ward—Effect of the ‘Oxford Movement’—Controversy on
the endowment of the Greek Professorship.—Defeat of Mr.
Gladstone in 1865 204
CHAPTER XIX.
THE UNIVERSITY IN 1886.
Reign of Queen Victoria—State of the University on the
Queen’s accession—Influence of recent changes—Present
character of the University 217
INDEX 223
THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.
CHAPTER I.
THE RISE OF THE UNIVERSITY.
[Sidenote: Mythical origin of the University]
The University of Oxford has long ceased to claim the fabulous
antiquity for which its mediæval champions had contended, as for an
article of faith, and which found credit with so conscientious an
historian as Anthony Wood. It is now admitted that nothing is certainly
known of its origin, and that its alleged foundation by Alfred the
Great rests upon a tradition which cannot be traced back to a period
beyond the fourteenth century. There is no evidence whatever to show
that any germ of a University, much less that any college, existed at
Oxford in the reign of Alfred, who was born in the neighbouring town
of Wantage. The very contrary may reasonably be inferred from the
negative fact that Asser, in his contemporary biography of Alfred,
makes no allusion to his supposed institution of ‘schools’ at Oxford,
though he amply attests his paternal zeal for English education.
The early chroniclers are, without exception, equally silent on the
subject, which is noticed by no extant writer before the age of Edward
III. In the next reign, the primary myth—for so we must regard it—was
developed into a secondary myth, attributing to Alfred the foundation
of University College, and this imaginary pretension was actually
advanced by that college in the course of a lawsuit. Meanwhile, the
simpler tradition of Alfred’s connection with the University Schools
was repeated by author after author in days when the very nature of
historical proof was unknown, and was reinforced in the sixteenth
century by the insertion of a spurious passage into the work of Asser.
It has been reserved for the present century to recognise the plain
truth that we are entirely ignorant of the first stage in the growth of
the University, and that its name is never mentioned in history before
the Norman Conquest.
[Sidenote: Early schools of Oxford]
The silence of Domesday Book respecting the University of Oxford must
be taken as presumptive, though by no means conclusive, proof that it
had no corporate existence at that date. Much learning has been spent
in speculations on its origin and primitive constitution, but these
speculations have little support in any facts historically known to us
before the Norman Conquest. It is more than probable, however, that
Oxford was already a resort of students and a place of education.
Having been a residence of Edmund Ironside, Canute, and Harold I., as
well as the seat of several National Councils, it was now recognised as
a provincial capital by the erection of its castle, embracing within it
the Collegiate Church of St. George; while the number of its monastic
establishments would naturally attract poor scholars from all parts
of England. The earliest schools, not in England only but throughout
Europe, were attached to monasteries or cathedrals; and, in the absence
of any contrary evidence, analogy almost compels us to regard the
Church as the foster-mother of the University. In the ‘claustral’
schools of St. Frideswide, and the houses in Oxford belonging to
abbeys, such as those of Abingdon and Eynsham, we may discern the
original seminaries of academical teaching—the first rudiments of
the _Studium Generale_, afterwards developed into the _Universitas
Literaria_. On the other hand, it is certain that, side by side
with these claustral schools, secular or lay schools were gradually
opened—some boarding-schools, mainly designed for the reception of boys
from the country, others mere classrooms frequented by the students who
lodged either in private dwellings or in public hostels. It appears
that before long the secular outnumbered the claustral schools,
and became centred in a particular quarter of the city, stretching
northward from the west end of St. Mary’s Church, afterwards known
as School Street, and said to have existed in the year 1109. We may
surmise with some confidence that in the infancy of the University its
lecturers were almost exclusively clerks, but too often scholastic
adventurers of mean attainments, whose lessons rose little above the
barest elements of knowledge. But all theories of its rudimentary
organisation are purely conjectural. ‘The Schools of Oxford’ first
emerge into history in the next century, when they really attained a
national celebrity, soon eclipsing those of Canterbury, Winchester,
Peterborough, and others, which may have rivalled them in earlier times.
[Sidenote: Intellectual revival of the twelfth century]
The twelfth century, the golden age of feudalism and the Crusades,
was also marked by a notable movement of thought and revival of
speculative activity. The culture and science which had long found a
home at Cordova now began to diffuse themselves over Western Europe,
and the works of Avicenna introduced a curious relish for Aristotle’s
‘Natural Philosophy,’ which veiled itself in mysticism to escape
ecclesiastical censure. The old scholastic _Trivium_ of grammar,
logic, and rhetoric, with the mathematical _Quadrivium_, comprising
arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, still constituted the magic
circle of ‘Arts’ in the mediæval sense. But the ‘sciences,’ as they
were then called, of physics, Roman law, and systematic theology, if
not medicine, were now claiming a place in the curriculum of education;
and valuable histories, in the form of chronicles, were compiled in
several English monasteries. That age cannot be called intellectually
barren which produced Lanfranc, Anselm, Abelard, Bernard, Peter
the Lombard, Averroes, Gratian, and Maimonides. The University of
Bologna, with its School of Law, opened by Irnerius under imperial
patronage, was among the first fruits of this mediæval renaissance.
The cultivation of Roman jurisprudence is usually dated from the
discovery of a copy of the Pandects at the capture of Amalfi in 1135,
but it cannot have been wholly unknown at an earlier period, since the
religious orders had been forbidden by a Papal mandate to study it.
The lectures of Irnerius, however, apparently preceding the capture
of Amalfi, methodised and popularised the new learning, which spread
rapidly through Western Europe.
[Sidenote: Lectures of Vacarius, and first germs of the University]
There is historical evidence of Vacarius, a professor from Bologna,
having commenced lectures in civil law at Oxford, under the patronage
of Archbishop Theobald, about 1149, in the reign of Stephen, by whom
they were prohibited for a while at the instance of teachers interested
in philosophy and theology. This is the earliest well-ascertained event
in the academical life of Oxford, but it may safely be inferred that
if Vacarius came from Italy to lecture in the schools of Oxford, those
schools had already attained something like a European reputation,
and were fitted to become the germ of an University.[1] We have the
positive testimony of John of Salisbury, who had studied at Paris,
that Oxford, just before the accession of Henry II., was engrossed
by logical controversies about the nature of Universals. Yet this
concourse of eager students apparently possessed no chartered rights.
There is no sufficient ground for the assertion that Henry I. was
educated at Oxford, and granted some important privileges to the
so-called ‘University;’ but we know that he lived much both at Oxford
and at Woodstock, that he built the palace of Beaumont on the north
of the city, and that he demised to its corporation the fee farm of
the city for the annual rent of sixty-three pounds. Nor can it be
proved, as it has been alleged, that, having sunk again to a low ebb
under Stephen and Henry II., it was revived by the judicious patronage
of Richard I., himself born at Beaumont. On the other hand, starting
from the fact that the Oxford schools attracted a professor from
Italy in the reign of Stephen, we are justified in believing that
they could scarcely have escaped the notice of Henry I., who earned
a name for scholarship in that unlettered era, and is said to have
‘pleased himself much with the conversation of clerks;’ or of Stephen,
who twice held Councils at Oxford; or of Henry II., who, like his
grandfather, constantly resided in the immediate neighbourhood. Without
the encouragement of the Crown as well as of the Church, they could not
have attained the position which they clearly occupied before the end
of the twelfth century. By this time Oseney Abbey had been founded, and
had annexed the church of St. George within the Castle. Both of these
religious houses served as lodgings for young scholars, who contributed
to swell the number of Oxford students. It is true that we have no
trace of academical endowments, or of royal charters recognising the
Oxford schools, in the twelfth century. But we are informed on good
authority that Robert Pullen (or Pulleyne), author of the _Sententiarum
Libri Octo_, and for some years a student at Paris, delivered regular
courses of lectures on the Scriptures at Oxford some years before the
visit of Vacarius. More than a generation later, in the year 1186 or
1187, Giraldus Cambrensis, having been despatched to Ireland by Henry
II. as companion of Prince John, publicly read at Oxford his work on
the Topography of Ireland. According to his own account, ‘not willing
to hide his candle under a bushel, but to place it on a candlestick,
that it might give light to all, he resolved to read it publicly at
Oxford, where the most learned and famous of the English clergy were
at that time to be found.’ These recitations lasted three successive
days, and the lecturer has left it on record that he feasted not only
‘all the doctors of the different faculties and such of their pupils
as were of fame and note,’ but ‘the rest of the scholars,’ with many
burgesses and even the poor of the city. Whether or not the schools
thus frequented at Oxford were mainly founded by the Benedictines, as
has been maintained, and whether or not they were mainly conducted
by teachers from Paris, they assuredly existed, and constituted an
University in all but the name.
[Sidenote: Connection of Oxford with the University of Paris]
It is no longer doubtful that, in their earliest stage, the schools of
Oxford owed much to those of Paris, then in a far more advanced state
of development, though not formally incorporated into an ‘University’
until early in the thirteenth century. William of Champeaux had opened
a school of logic at Paris so far back as 1109. His pupil, Abelard,
followed him; and the fame of Abelard himself was far surpassed by
that of Peter Lombard, whose text-book of ‘Sentences’ became the
philosophical Bible of the Middle Ages. Students flocked in from all
parts of Europe; lectures multiplied, not only in one faculty, as at
Bologna or Salerno, but in every branch of mediæval study, especially
in those comprised under ‘Arts;’ a system of exercises, degrees,
academical discipline, and even college life, was gradually matured;
and when Philip Augustus gave the new academical guild his royal
approval, it was already in a condition of vigorous activity. In this
sense, the growth of the University of Paris was spontaneous. Like that
of Oxford, it was originally nothing but an association of teachers
united by mutual interest; but, like all mediæval institutions, it
grew up under Church authority. It had originally sprung from the
cathedral school of Notre-Dame; the ecclesiastical chancellor of
Paris claimed a paramount jurisdiction over it, which, however, was
constantly resisted by the University, not without support from the
Court of Rome; and the validity of its highest degrees was derived from
the sanction of the Pope himself. Considering the links which bound
England to France, through Normandy and her other French provinces, as
well as the intellectual ascendency of Paris over Western Europe, it is
natural that Oxford should have borrowed many features of her internal
regulations from this source, though it cannot be affirmed with
certainty that she did so. The presumption is strongly confirmed by the
undoubted fact that the ‘English nation’ was one of the four ‘nations’
into which the students of Paris were divided, the Normans forming
another distinct nation by themselves. Leland tells us that young
Englishmen who then aspired to a high education got their schooling,
as we should call it, at Oxford, but their college training at Paris,
and Anthony Wood gives a list of eminent Oxonians who had studied at
Paris, including the names of Giraldus Cambrensis, Robert Pulleyne,
Robert Grosteste, Roger Bacon, and Stephen Langton. If this be so, it
was inevitable that, on their return, they should bring home with them
ideas based on their experience of Paris, which might thus gradually
become a model of academical organisation for Oxford. In the year 1229,
a fresh link of connection with the great French University was created
by a large immigration of Parisian students. The immediate cause of
this immigration was an outbreak of hostility between the scholars
and citizens of Paris, like those which so constantly recurred between
the same parties at Oxford. Henry III. had the foresight to seize this
opportunity of reinforcing his own University, and among the many
students who came from Paris to Oxford on his invitation were several
of his own subjects who had gone abroad for their education.
[Sidenote: Recognition of the scholars by the Papal Legate after the
riot of 1209]
At all events, at the beginning of the thirteenth century, we find at
Oxford an academical body singularly like that long established at
Paris, and exhibiting almost equal vitality. In one respect, indeed,
its position was still more independent; for, whereas at Paris the
University was overshadowed by a Royal Court with all the great
dignitaries of the French Church and State, at Oxford the University
authorities had no competitors but the corporation of the city.
Moreover, while at Paris there was a resident chancellor of Notre-Dame,
ever ready to assert his authority, there was no episcopal see of
Oxford; the diocesan lived at a safe distance, and the archdeacon was
the highest resident functionary of the Church. About the beginning
of the thirteenth century, Edmund Rich, afterwards archbishop of
Canterbury, and Robert Grosteste, afterwards bishop of Lincoln,
became pioneers of Aristotelian study in Oxford, and were among the
earliest graduates in divinity, a faculty then in its infancy. In
the year 1214 we come upon more solid ground in a documentary record
preserved in the archives of the University. This record, in the shape
of a letter from the Papal Legate, refers to an important incident
which had occurred five years before, in 1209, when three students
had been seized and hanged by a mob of townspeople, with the mayor
and burgesses at their head, in revenge for the death of a woman
accidentally killed by another student. In consequence of this outrage,
said to have been countenanced by King John, the city was laid under
an interdict by the Pope, who issued a prohibition against lecturing
in Oxford, and the great body of students migrated to Cambridge,
Reading, or elsewhere. The letter of the Papal Legate, reciting the
submission of the burgesses to his authority, and his disposition
to deal mercifully with them, proceeds to impose upon them certain
penalties. One of these is the remission of half the fixed rent payable
for halls tenanted by scholars, for a period of ten years. Another
is the payment of fifty-two shillings yearly for the support of poor
scholars, and the obligation to feast one hundred poor scholars every
year on St. Nicholas’s Day. They are also to swear that, in future,
they will furnish the scholars with provisions at a just and reasonable
price; and that if they shall arrest a clerk they shall deliver him up,
upon due requisition from the bishop of Lincoln or the archdeacon of
Oxford, or his official, or the chancellor, or ‘him whom the bishop of
Lincoln shall have deputed to this office.’ This oath is to be repeated
yearly. All masters who continued to lecture after the retirement of
scholars under Papal mandate are to be suspended from lecturing for
three years. All townsmen convicted of participation in the original
crime are to come, without shoes, hats, or cloaks, to the graves of
the murdered ‘clerks,’ and are to give their bodies proper burial in
a place to be solemnly chosen. Upon any default in the fulfilment of
these conditions, the former sentence of excommunication is again to
be enforced by the bishop of Lincoln.
[Sidenote: Office of chancellor]
It is to be observed that in this memorable document there is no
mention of an ‘University.’ The members of the academical fraternity
are called simply ‘clerks’ or ‘scholars studying at Oxford.’ It may
further be inferred from the expressions respecting the chancellor,
that no chancellor of the University existed distinct from the
chancellor of the diocese, or, at least, that, if he existed, he was
a nominee of the bishop of Lincoln. On the other hand, the scholars
are recognised throughout as under the special protection of the Papal
See, as well as under special jurisdiction of the bishop of Lincoln,
afterwards to become _ex officio_ Visitor of the University. It seems
to follow that, while the University, as a corporation, was not yet
fully constituted, such a corporation already existed in an inchoate
state, and the schools of Oxford enjoyed a privileged status at the
supreme court of Western Christendom. When they first became, in the
legal sense, an ‘University’ under a chancellor of their own, is still
a disputed question, though a seal has been engraved, supposed to
be of about the year 1200, which bears the inscription, ‘_Sigillum
Cancellarii et Universitatis Oxoniensis_.’ Much learning has been
expended on the origin of the chancellorship, and it will probably
never be determined with certainty whether the earliest chancellors
derived their authority exclusively from the bishop of Lincoln as
diocesan, or were in the nature of elective rectors of the schools
(_Rectores Scholarum_), whose election was confirmed by the bishop of
Lincoln. What is certain is that the acting head of the University was
always entitled _Cancellarius_ rather than _Rector Scholarum_, that
from the beginning of Henry III.’s reign he is frequently mentioned
under this official title, especially in the important charters of
1244 and 1255, and that by the middle of the thirteenth century he was
treated as an independent representative of the University, while the
official deputy of the bishop at the University was not the chancellor
but the archdeacon of Oxford. At this period, then, we may regard the
University as fully constituted, and the official list of chancellors
begins in the year 1220, when three persons are mentioned as having
filled the office, the last of whom is Robert Grosteste, afterwards
the celebrated reforming bishop of Lincoln. From this epoch we may
safely date the election of the chancellor by Convocation, though it
long continued to be subject to confirmation by the diocesan. A century
later (1322) the election was made biennial.
[Sidenote: University chests, and sources of revenue in the thirteenth
century. Rise of Halls]
In the year 1219 the abbot and Convent of Eynsham took upon themselves
the obligations laid upon the burgesses in 1214, so far as regarded the
double provision for poor scholars. This agreement was carried out,
yet the burgesses are still treated as liable in an ordinance issued,
in 1240, by Robert Grosteste, then bishop of Lincoln, which provides
for the regular application of the fund to its original purpose. This
ordinance marks an important epoch in the growth of the University.
The ‘Frideswyde Chest,’ and other chests formed on a like principle
by successive benefactions for the relief of poor scholars, appear
to have been the earliest form of corporate property held by the
University. They continued to multiply up to the end of the fifteenth
century, when they had reached the number of twenty-four at least,
and are computed to have contained an aggregate sum of 2,000 marks,
all of which might be in circulation on loan at the same time.[2]
It is very difficult to ascertain what other sources of revenue the
University may have possessed in the first stage of its existence. In
the next stage, its income seems to have been largely derived from
academical fines and fees on graces, as well as from duties paid by
masters keeping grammar-schools and principals of halls, into which
the primitive boarding-schools were first transforming themselves. It
is clear that, at this period, the great mass of students, not being
inmates of religious houses, were lodged and boarded in these unendowed
halls, mostly hired from the citizens by clerks, who in some cases
were not even graduates, but were regularly licensed by the chancellor
or his commissary on September 9, and were subject to fixed rules
of discipline laid down from time to time by the governing body of
the University. How many of them may have been open in the middle of
the thirteenth century is a question which cannot be answered. About
seventy are specified by name in a list compiled nearly two centuries
later, but we have no means of knowing how many ancient halls may have
then become extinct, or how many new halls may have been founded. The
evidence now in our possession does not enable us to identify more than
about eighty as having ever existed, and it is certain that all these
did not exist at any one time. Even if we suppose that several hundred
students were housed in monastic buildings during the age preceding the
foundation of colleges, and make a large allowance for those in private
lodging-houses, we cannot estimate the whole number of University
scholars at more than 2,000, or at the most 3,000. The loose statement
of Richard of Armagh, so lightly repeated by Anthony Wood and others,
that some 30,000 scholars were collected at Oxford in this age, not
only rests upon no sure historical ground, but is utterly inconsistent
with all that we know of the area covered by the city, and of the
position occupied by the academical population.
[Sidenote: Early University charters]
It is well known that Henry III. frequently visited Oxford for the
purpose of holding councils or otherwise, and his relations with the
University were constant. Amongst the letters and charters issued by
him in regard to University affairs three are specially notable. One
of these letters, dated 1238, was addressed to the mayor and burghers,
directing them to inquire into the circumstances of a riot at Oseney
Abbey between the servants of Otho, the Papal Legate, and a body of
disorderly students. This riot led to a struggle, lasting a whole
year, between the Legate and the University, supported by the English
bishops, and especially by Robert Grosteste. The Legate was ultimately
appeased by the public submission of the University representatives
in London to his authority, whereupon he withdrew the interdict
which he had laid upon the Oxford clerks, some of whom had retired
to Northampton, and others, it is said, to Salisbury. Meanwhile the
conflicts between the students and townspeople were incessant. In
1244, after a violent attack of gownsmen on the Jewry, the chancellor
of the University was given by a royal writ exclusive cognisance of
all pleas arising out of contracts relating to personalty, and in 1248
the ‘mayor’s oath’ of fidelity to the privileges of the University was
imposed by letters patent. By a similar charter, granted in 1255 to the
city of Oxford, these privileges are incidentally confirmed, for it is
there provided that if a ‘clerk’ shall injure a townsman he shall be
imprisoned until the chancellor shall claim him, while, if a townsman
shall injure a clerk, he shall be imprisoned until he make satisfaction
according to the judgment of the chancellor. Two years later (in 1257)
the liberties of the University were defended against the bishop of
Lincoln himself before the king at St. Albans, on the ground that
Oxford was, after Paris, ‘_schola secunda ecclesiæ_.’
FOOTNOTES:
[1] It is perhaps needless to observe that ‘universitas’ signifies
a ‘corporation’ or guild, and implies no universality in the range
of subjects taught, or _Universitas Facultatum_. ‘Studium Generale’
probably signifies a place of education open to all comers.
[2] See the Introduction to Anstey’s _Munimenta Academica_, pp. xxxv.
et sqq.
CHAPTER II.
THE EARLY COLLEGES.
[Sidenote: Rise of Colleges]
By far the most important event in the academical history of the
thirteenth century was the foundation of University, Balliol, and
Merton Colleges. The idea of secular colleges, it is true, was not
wholly new. Harold’s foundation at Waltham, afterwards converted into
an abbey, was originally non-monastic, and designed to be a home
for secular priests, but it was not an educational institution.
There were colleges for the maintenance of poor scholars at Bologna;
rather, however, in the nature of the Oxford halls. If the founders
of the earliest Oxford college were indebted for their inspiration to
any foreign source, they must have derived it from the great French
University in Paris, of which the collegiate system already formed
a distinctive feature. Not to speak of still more ancient colleges
at Paris, either attached to monasteries or serving the purpose of
mere lodging-houses, the Sorbonne, founded about 1250, furnishes
a striking precedent for its Oxford successors, as an academical
cloister specially planned for the education of the secular clergy.
Nevertheless, there is no proof that its constitution was actually
imitated or studied by the founder of any Oxford college, and there
is one important difference between the Paris and Oxford colleges,
that whereas the former were appropriated to special faculties, the
latter welcomed students in all faculties. It is, therefore, by no
means improbable that in the development of the college system, as in
the original incorporation of schools into an academical body, like
causes produced like results by independent processes at the French and
English Universities.
[Sidenote: Foundation of University and Balliol]
The claim of University College to priority among Oxford colleges
cannot be disputed, if the foundation of a college is to be dated from
the earliest of the endowments afterwards appropriated to its support.
It was in 1249 that William of Durham left by will a sum of 310 marks
to the University of Oxford for the maintenance of ten or more Masters,
being natives of the county of Durham, in lodgings to be provided at
Oxford out of this fund. Two houses in School Street, Oxford, and one
in High Street, were purchased by the University before 1263, and were
probably occupied by students. There was, however, no royal charter
of incorporation, no provision for corporate self-government, or for
the succession of fellows, no organised society, no distribution of
powers or definition of duties. In a word, the institution founded
by William of Durham was not a college, but an exhibition-fund to
be administered by the University. It was not until 1292 that this
scattered body of exhibitioners was consolidated into ‘the Great Hall
of the University,’ as it was then called, under statutes which are a
very meagre copy of those issued nearly thirty years earlier by Walter
de Merton, and which, unlike his, were imposed, not by the founder,
but by the University itself. Meanwhile, at some time between 1263 and
1268, John Balliol, of Barnard Castle, father of John Balliol, king of
Scotland, provided similar exhibitions for poor scholars at Oxford. His
intention was completed by his wife, Dervorguilla, who collected the
recipients of his bounty into a single building on the present site of
the college, increased the endowments so that it might support a body
of sixteen exhibitioners with a yearly stipend of twenty-seven marks
apiece, and in 1282 issued statutes regulating the new foundation, but
fully conceding the principle of self-government.
[Sidenote: Foundation of Merton College]
In the meantime Merton College had been founded on a far larger scale,
and had received statutes which, viewed across the interval of six
centuries, astonish us by their comprehensive wisdom and foresight.
As an institution for the promotion of academical education under
collegiate discipline but secular guidance, it was the expression
of a conception entirely new in England, which deserves special
consideration, inasmuch as it became the model of all other collegiate
foundations, and determined the future constitution of both the English
Universities. In this sense, Merton College is entitled to something
more than precedence, for its founder was the real founder of the
English college-system.
[Sidenote: Merton College, Statutes of, 1274]
The oldest foundation charter of Merton College, issued in 1264,
was itself the development of still earlier schemes for the support
of poor scholars, _in scholis degentes_. It established an endowed
‘House of the scholars of Merton’ at Malden, in Surrey, under a warden
or bailiffs, with two or three ‘ministers of the altar.’ Out of the
estates assigned to this collegiate house were to be maintained a body
of twenty students in a hall or lodging at Oxford, or elsewhere, if a
more flourishing _studium generale_ should elsewhere be instituted.
In 1274, Walter de Merton, having greatly expanded his first design,
put forth his final statutes, transferring the warden, bailiffs, and
ministers of the altar, from Malden to Oxford, and designating Oxford
as the exclusive and permanent home of the scholars. These statutes,
which continued in force until the year 1856, are a marvellous
repertory of minute and elaborate provisions governing every detail
of college life. The number and allowances of the scholars; their
studies, diet, costume, and discipline; the qualifications, election,
and functions of the warden; the distribution of powers among various
college officers; the management of the college estates, and the
conduct of college business, are here regulated with truly remarkable
sagacity. The policy which dictated and underlies them is easy to
discern. Fully appreciating the intellectual movement of his age,
and unwilling to see the paramount control of it in the hands of the
religious orders—the zealous apostles of Papal supremacy—Walter de
Merton resolved to establish within the precincts of the University a
great seminary of secular clergy, which should educate a succession
of men capable of doing good service in Church and State. He was not
content with a copy or even a mere adaptation of the monastic idea; on
the contrary, it may be surmised that he was influenced, consciously or
unconsciously, by the spirit of those non-monastic institutions, now
almost forgotten, in which the parochial clergy of an earlier age had
sometimes lived together under a common rule. The employment of his
scholars was to be study—not the _claustralis religio_ of the older
religious orders, nor the more practical and popular self-devotion of
the Dominicans and Franciscans. He forbade them ever to take vows; he
enjoined them to maintain their corporate independence against all
foreign encroachments; he ordained that all should apply themselves
to studying the liberal arts and philosophy before entering upon a
course of theology; and he provided special chaplains to relieve them
of ritual and ceremonial duties. He contemplated and even encouraged
their going forth into the great world, only reminding those who
might win an ample fortune (_uberior fortuna_) to show their gratitude
by advancing the interests of the college. No ascetic obligations
were laid upon them, but residence and continuous study were strictly
prescribed, and if any scholars retired from the college with the
intention of giving up learning, or even ceased to study diligently,
their salaries were no longer to be paid. If the scale of these
salaries and statutable allowances was humble, it was chiefly because
the founder intended the number of his scholars to be constantly
increased, as the revenues of the house might be enlarged. He even
recognised the duty of meeting the needs of future ages, and empowered
his scholars not only to make new statutes, but even to migrate
elsewhere from Oxford in case of necessity.
[Sidenote: Social position, manners, and academical life of early
students]
If we seek to measure the effect produced by the rise of colleges on
the character of the University, we must endeavour to realise the
aspect of University life and manners before colleges were planted in
Oxford. The students, as we have seen, were lodged in religious houses,
licensed halls, or private chambers. The former were mostly destined to
swell the ranks of the regular clergy, and, it may be presumed, were
subjected to some wholesome rules of discipline, independent of any
authority exercised by the University. As they also received the whole
or the greater part of their instruction within the walls of their
convents, they probably were rarely seen in the streets, cultivated
a certain degree of refinement, and took comparatively little part
in the riots which constantly disturbed the peace of Oxford in the
Middle Ages. With the other two classes it was far otherwise. Even the
inmates of halls lived in a style and under conditions which, in our
own age, would be regarded as barbarism. Like other scholars, they were
chiefly drawn from a social grade below that of esquires or wealthy
merchants. Many of them were the less vigorous members of yeomen’s or
tradesmen’s families; not a few sprang from the very lowest ranks,
and actually begged their way to Oxford. The majority had probably
come as mere schoolboys, at the age of eleven or twelve, to one of the
numerous grammar-schools which prepared their pupils for the higher
studies taught in the ‘Schools of Oxford’ properly so called. It was
for these younger scholars, we may suppose, that regular ‘fetchers’
and ‘bringers’ were licensed by the University, as we learn from a
document of 1459, though some were attended by private servants. The
older scholars, however, doubtless travelled in parties, for the sake
of protection and economy, with their scanty baggage slung over the
backs of pack-horses. Having safely arrived in Oxford, they would
disperse to their several halls; and it does not appear that, at this
period, a freshman underwent any process of matriculation or took any
oath before acquiring the privileges of the University. He would, of
course, share his bedroom, if not his bed, with others, and be content
with the roughest fare, but he must also have dispensed with nearly all
the manifold aids to study now enjoyed by the humblest students. Books
existed only in the form of costly manuscripts treasured up in the
chilly reading-rooms of monasteries; privacy was as impossible by day
as by night; and the only chance of acquiring knowledge was by hanging
upon the lips of a teacher lecturing to a mixed class of all ages and
infinitely various attainments, in an ill-lighted room, unprovided with
desks or fireplace, which in these days would be condemned as utterly
unfit for an elementary school-room. The principal of his hall, it is
true, was supposed to be his tutor, but we have positive evidence, in a
statute of 1432, that principals themselves were sometimes illiterate
persons, and of doubtful character; nor was it until that year that it
was necessary for them to be graduates. What kind of language he would
hear, and what kind of habits he would learn, from his chamber-mates
and class-mates in the century preceding the age of Chaucer, we can
be at no loss to imagine. And yet the inmate of a hall, being under
some kind of domestic superintendence, was a model of academical
propriety compared with the unattached students, or ‘chamber-dekyns,’
whose enormities fill so large a space in the mediæval annals of the
University.
[Sidenote: ‘Chamber-dekyns’]
It is possible that a certain jealousy on the part of principals and
others personally interested in the prosperity of halls may have
exaggerated the vices of these extra-aularian students. At the same
time it is self-evident that raw youths congregated together, under
no authority, in the houses of townspeople, or ‘laymen,’ would be far
more likely to be riotous and disorderly than members of halls, or,
still more, of colleges. Accordingly, the ‘chamber-dekyns’ were always
credited with the chief share in the street brawls and other excesses
which so often disgraced the University in the Middle Ages. The leading
statute on the subject, it is true, was passed in the year 1432, when
colleges and halls had already established a decisive ascendency, and
when the ‘chamber-dekyns’ may have sunk into greater contempt than in
earlier times. But that statute, abolishing the system of lodging in
private houses, treats its abuses as of long standing, and probably
describes a state of things which had existed for two centuries. It is
here recited that the peace of the University is constantly disturbed
by persons who, having the appearance of scholars, dwell in no hall
and are subject to no principal, but lurk about the town in taverns
and brothels, committing murders and thefts; wherefore it is ordained
that all scholars must reside in some college or hall, under pain of
imprisonment, and that no townsman shall harbour scholars without
special leave from the chancellor.
[Sidenote: Street brawls and disorders]
The reality of the evils against which this statute was aimed is
attested by the frequent recurrence of other statutes against crimes
of violence committed by scholars, as well as by college rules against
frequenting the streets except under proper control. We may take as an
example an University statute passed in 1432 against ‘the unbridled
prevalence of execrable disturbances’ in Oxford, which specifically
imposes fines, on a graduated scale, for threats of personal violence,
carrying weapons, pushing with the shoulder or striking with the fist,
striking with a stone or club, striking with a knife, dagger, sword,
axe, or other warlike weapon, carrying bows and arrows, gathering armed
men, and resisting the execution of justice, especially by night.
The main cause of these brawls is clearly indicated by the further
injunction that no scholar or Master shall take part with another
because he is of the same country, or against him because he is of a
different country. The statutable fines range from one shilling to no
less than forty—a highly deterrent penalty in the reign of Henry VI. It
is to be observed that while the parade of arms within the chancellor’s
jurisdiction is prohibited, the possession of them is rather taken for
granted, since they were usually carried for purposes of defence on
long journeys. Bows and arrows, as essentially offensive weapons, are
naturally placed under a stricter ban, and the heaviest punishment is
properly reserved for riotous assemblages, which had so often led to
bloodshed in the streets of mediæval Oxford.
[Sidenote: Superiority of colleges in discipline and tuition]
In such a state of society colleges offered not only a tranquil retreat
to adult scholars, but also a safe and well-regulated home to younger
students attending courses of lectures in the schools. The early
founders, it is true, did not design them to be mainly educational
seminaries for the general youth of the country, and probably expected
their inmates to obtain much of their instruction outside the walls
of the college. But the statutes of Merton prove conclusively that
‘Scholars’[3] on admission were supposed to be of about the same age
as modern freshmen, and to need rudimentary teaching, while express
provision was made for the reception of mere schoolboys. Doubtless, for
at least two centuries after the institution of colleges, their members
were greatly outnumbered by those of halls, and the system which in
the fifteenth century triumphed over the rivalry of private hostels
may be more properly called aularian than collegiate. Nevertheless,
the superiority of colleges as boarding-houses for students inevitably
made itself felt from the very first. Humble as their buildings and
domestic arrangements may originally have been, they were imposing and
luxurious by contrast with those of lodging-houses or halls. Their
endowments enabled them to maintain a standard of decency and comfort
in itself conducive to study; their statutes ensured regularity of
discipline; their corporate privileges and rights of self-government
imparted a dignity and security to all connected with them; the example
and authority of their elder fellows, mostly engaged in scholastic
or scientific research, if not in vigorous lecturing, cannot have
been wholly lost upon the juniors. In Merton, and probably in other
colleges, disputations were carried on as in the University schools;
attendance at Divine service was a statutable obligation; students
were not allowed to go about the streets unless accompanied by a
Master of Arts; in the dormitories the seniors were invested with
a kind of monitorial authority over the rest; and misconduct was
punishable with expulsion. By degrees, some of the halls came into the
possession and under the control of colleges, which might naturally
elect the most promising of their inmates to scholarships. No wonder
that, however weak numerically, the seven colleges founded before the
end of the fourteenth century produced an immense proportion of the
men who adorned that age by their learning and virtues.[4] Thus, out
of eighteen vice-chancellors who can be identified as having filled
that office in the fourteenth century, five at least were members
of Merton College, two of Oriel, and one of Queen’s. Of sixty-four
proctors known to have been elected during the same century, twenty-two
at least were members of Merton, eight of Oriel, four of Balliol, and
one of University, Exeter, Queen’s, and New College respectively,
while it is probable that others, of whom nothing definite is known,
really belonged to one of the seven ancient colleges. Considering how
largely the non-collegiate population of the University outnumbered
these small collegiate bodies, it is a very significant fact that so
many vice-chancellors and proctors should have been chosen from them
in days when election to both these offices was entirely free. Such a
fact goes far to prove that the ‘college monopoly,’ of which so much
has been heard in later times, owed its origin, in a great degree, to
natural selection in a genuine struggle for existence between endowed
and unendowed societies.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] In the Merton Statutes the words ‘Scholar’ and ‘Fellow’ are
convertible, the Scholar being a Junior Fellow upon his first admission.
[4] Though Canterbury College was founded in this century, it does
not seem to have ranked with other colleges in the University, and no
vice-chancellor or proctor is recorded to have been elected from it.
CHAPTER III.
PROGRESS OF THE UNIVERSITY IN THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY.
[Sidenote: Europe in the fourteenth century]
The fourteenth century deserves to be regarded as the most progressive
and eventful in the history of the Middle Ages. All the kingdoms of
Europe were engaged in wars, for the most part destitute of permanent
results, yet the work of civilisation went forward with unbroken
steadiness and rapidity. The Spanish monarchies of Castile and Arragon
continued their long struggle for supremacy with each other, and for
national existence with the Mohammedan power at Granada. Germany was
distracted by civil wars and double imperial elections; Italy was torn
asunder by the factions of the Guelphs and Ghibellines. The usurpation
and avarice of the Roman Court produced an all but general revolt
against Papal authority; the seat of the Holy See was transferred
for sixty years to Avignon, and the return of the Pope to Rome was
followed by ‘the Great Schism,’ which lasted fifty years longer; Russia
was subject to the Khan of Kipchak until its southern provinces were
overrun by the hordes of Timur; Poland and Hungary were exhausting
their strength in expeditions against their neighbours or against
Venice, while the Ottoman Turks were advancing into the heart of
Eastern Europe. England was entering upon its purely dynastic crusades
for the possession of the Scotch and French crowns, which, fruitful
as they were in military glory, diverted the energies of the nation,
wasted its resources, and retarded its internal development for several
generations. Nevertheless, literature, art, and education flourished
marvellously in the midst of the storms which racked European society.
Ancient learning was revived in Italy chiefly by the influence of
Petrarch and Boccaccio; Dante became the father of modern Italian
poetry; Cimabue and his pupils founded the Italian school of painting;
scholastic philosophy culminated and gave place to a more independent
spirit of inquiry; scientific research first began to emancipate
itself from magical arts; Roman law extended its dominion everywhere
except in England, where, however, Chaucer and Wyclif gave the first
powerful impulse to native English thought; free thinking in politics
and religion penetrated deeply into the popular mind, and increasing
refinement of manners kept pace with the growth of trade and industry.
Universities sprang up one after another—in France, in Spain, in Italy,
in Poland, in Hungary, in Austria, and in Germany; nor is it unduly
rash to surmise that, if the invention of printing could have been
anticipated by a century, the Renaissance and the Reformation itself
might have preceded the capture of Constantinople and the discovery of
America.
[Sidenote: Social condition of the University]
At the commencement of this century Oxford presented strange contrasts
between the social and the intellectual aspects of its academical life.
The great riot of 1297 was scarcely over, and had left a heritage
of ill-will which bore fruit in the frightful conflict of 1354; the
encounters between the northern and southern nations were of frequent
recurrence, and there was no effective system of University discipline,
while college discipline, still in its infancy, was confined within
the precincts of Merton, University, and Balliol. The common herd of
students, inmates of halls and inns and lodging-houses, were still
crowded together in miserable sleeping-rooms and lecture-rooms, without
domestic care or comfort, and strangers to all those frank and generous
relations which naturally grow up between young Englishmen, especially
of gentle birth, in the kindly intercourse of modern college life.
They often rendered more or less menial services in return for their
instruction, and were sometimes enabled to borrow from the University
Chest; at other times they relapsed into mendicity, and asked for alms
on the public highways. There were no libraries or museums, and the
few books possessed by the University were stored in a vault under St.
Mary’s Church. The laws of health being unknown, and every sanitary
precaution neglected, the city of Oxford was constantly scourged with
pestilence from which members of the University were fain to fly into
neighbouring country villages.
[Sidenote: Intellectual vigour of the University]
Under such conditions, and in such a society, it was utterly impossible
that education or learning could flourish generally according to
our modern ideas, and yet it is certain that a restless and even
feverish activity of speculation prevailed within an inner circle of
philosophical spirits, to which there are few parallels in the history
of thought. If their treasury of knowledge was scanty in the extreme,
yet the range of their studies was truly sublime, both in its aims
and in its orbit. In the chilly squalor of uncarpeted and unwarmed
chambers, by the light of narrow and unglazed casements, or the gleam
of flickering oil lamps, poring over dusky manuscripts hardly to be
deciphered by modern eyesight, undisturbed by the boisterous din of
riot and revelry without, men of humble birth, and dependent on charity
for bare subsistence, but with a noble self-confidence transcending
that of Bacon or of Newton, thought out and copied out those subtle
masterpieces of mediæval lore, purporting to unveil the hidden laws
of Nature as well as the dark counsels of Providence and the secrets
of human destiny, which—frivolous and baseless as they may appear
under the scrutiny of a later criticism—must still be ranked among the
grandest achievements of speculative reason. We must remember that
archery and other outdoor sports were then mostly in the nature of
martial exercises reserved for the warlike classes, while music and the
fine arts were all but unknown, and the sedentary labour of the student
was relieved neither by the athletic nor by the æsthetic pastimes of
our own more favoured age. Thus driven inward upon itself, the fire
of intellectual ambition burned with a tenfold intensity, and it was
tempered by no such humility as the infinite range of modern science
imposes on the boldest of its disciples. In many a nightly vigil, and
in many a lonely ramble over the wild hill-sides beyond Cowley and
Hincksey, or along the river-sides between Godstow and Iffley, these
pioneers of philosophical research, to whom alchemy was chemistry,
and astronomy but the key to astrology, constantly pursued their
hopeless quest of Wisdom as it was dimly conceived by the patriarch
Job, pressing Aristotle into the service of mediæval theology, which
they regarded as the science of sciences, and inventing a mysterious
phraseology which to us has lost its meaning, but which they mistook
for solid knowledge, fondly imagining that it might lead them upward to
some primary law governing the whole realm of matter and of mind. They
failed, indeed, because success was hopeless, but their very failure
paved the way for the ‘new knowledge’ of the next century, and cleared
the ground for the methods and discoveries which have made other names
immortal.
[Sidenote: Foundation of Exeter, Oriel, Queen’s, and Canterbury
Colleges]
During the reigns of Edward II. and Edward III. the collegiate element
in the University was strengthened by the foundation of five new
colleges, one of which has since become extinct. The first of these
was Exeter College, founded in 1314 by Walter de Stapledon, bishop of
Exeter. Ten years later, in 1324, Adam de Brome, almoner of King Edward
II., procured from that king a charter of incorporation for a college,
to be called St. Mary’s House, and to consist of a rector and scholars
in divers sciences. In the following year, having purchased the site
of the present college, now called Oriel, he transferred it to the
king, who, by a fresh charter, erected there a collegiate society of
ten scholars for the study of divinity. Queens College was founded upon
a similar model, and under similar conditions, in the year 1340, by
Robert de Egglesfield, chaplain to Queen Philippa. The rules of study
and discipline for Oriel and Queen’s were mostly borrowed from those of
Merton, but some interesting peculiarities may be found in the Queen’s
statutes. The removal of the University from Oxford is distinctly
contemplated, but, on the other hand, able men are to be welcomed as
scholars from all parts of the world, though a preference is reserved
for applicants from Cumberland and Westmoreland, the founder’s native
county, on account of its recent devastation in border-warfare. The
securities for impartial election to fellowships are unusually minute,
and there is a great variety of regulations strongly tinged with the
mystical tendency of the founder’s own mind. Canterbury College,
founded by Archbishop Simon Islip in 1361, differed from these in its
original constitution, since it embraced both secular and ‘religious’
students, and was mainly designed to promote the study of the civil and
canon law. Two years later, however, this design was abandoned, and the
college was appropriated to secular priests only, when John Wyclif,
probably the Reformer, was appointed its first head; but he was removed
by Archbishop Langham, and the college became a monastic nursery under
the priory of Canterbury, until it was absorbed into Christ Church in
the reign of Henry VIII.
[Sidenote: Foundation of New College]
The foundation of New College by William of Wykeham, bishop of
Winchester, in 1379, has been held to mark a new departure in
collegiate history. Like Walter de Merton, William of Wykeham had
filled various high offices of State, including that of chancellor, and
is well known as the designer of several great architectural works.
His main object in founding the College of ‘St. Mary of Winchester in
Oxford,’ since known as New College, is clearly stated in his charter.
It was to repair ‘the scarcity of scholars in the nation, having been
swept away by great pestilences and wars.’ Accordingly, in 1379, he
obtained a license from Richard II. to found a college ‘for seventy
scholars studying in the faculties,’ all of whom were to have passed
through his other college for boys at Winchester itself. These scholars
were to be ‘poor indigent clerks,’ sufficiently taught in grammar, and
under twenty years of age. Ten were to study civil and ten canon law;
the remaining fifty were to study the Arts, or philosophy and theology,
though two of these might be specially permitted to devote themselves
to astronomy, and two to medicine. But the claim of William of Wykeham
to be considered the second founder of the college-system depends less
on any notable peculiarity in his statutes than on the grandeur and
regularity of the buildings which he erected on a site then vacant, and
found by a jury to be infested by malefactors, murderers, and thieves,
as well as the scene of other public nuisances. The noble quadrangle,
of which the scholars took possession on the 14th of April, 1386,
having already been lodged in Hert Hall and other tenements, doubtless
served as the model for all the later colleges, and the supremacy of
colleges over halls may fitly be dated from the end of the fourteenth
century, when New College was the most imposing centre of collegiate
life.
[Sidenote: European influence of Oxford in the fourteenth century]
The importance of Oxford in the eyes of Europe was increased during
the fourteenth century by two causes, the decline of the University
of Paris, and the vigorous protest of Oxford schoolmen against the
spiritual despotism of the Papacy, discredited by its subjection to
French influence at Avignon. The former of these causes was, in fact,
nearly connected with the latter. The University of Paris had owed much
to Papal encouragement and protection, but it had always struggled
for corporate independence, and when, in 1316, it stooped to solicit
the patronage of John XXII., by submitting to him a list of candidates
for preferment, it forfeited its unique position in the estimation of
European scholars, then a small but united brotherhood. On the other
hand, it was an English Franciscan of Oxford—William of Occham—who
not only challenged the supremacy of the Pope, but ‘proclaimed the
severance of logic from theology.’ The assertion of this bold paradox,
aggravated by the aggressive Nominalism of its author, nearly cost him
his life, for he was imprisoned by the Pope’s order at Avignon, and
only escaped death by taking refuge at Munich with the Emperor Louis
of Bavaria. His doctrines, however, found wide acceptance at Oxford,
and paved the way for the far deeper revolution in ideas of which John
Wyclif was the pioneer.
[Sidenote: Rise of Wyclif]
The biography of this remarkable man, if authentic materials for it
existed, would cover almost the whole academical history of Oxford
during the latter part of the fourteenth century. Unfortunately, many
of the facts are still involved in uncertainty. Like Duns Scotus, he is
believed to have been a Northerner, though his birthplace is doubtful;
like him, too, he was at once a Realist in metaphysics and a champion
of liberty in theology. Several colleges have claimed him as their
own; Balliol has enrolled him among its Masters, Queen’s among its
commoners, and Merton among its fellows. His name only appears in the
books of Merton in the year 1356, and though he soon afterwards took an
active part in the controversies of the day at Balliol and elsewhere,
it was not until after 1374 that he became known as the founder of a
new school in theology, and, still more, as a dauntless assailant of
the corruptions incident to Papal supremacy and priestly authority. In
asserting the right of private judgment and exposing ecclesiastical
abuses, he was a true successor of Occham, but he dissented from
Occham’s Nominalism; his sympathies were entirely with the secular
clergy; and, whereas Occham was a Franciscan, Wyclif inveighed
against all the monastic Orders, but especially against the friars.
The movement which he led was essentially academical in its origin,
and definitely marks a great academical reaction against the regular
clergy, to whose influence learning and education had owed so much in
the previous century.
[Sidenote: Career of Wyclif]
The career of Wyclif, indeed, belongs to the University quite as much
as to the Church. It was as the last of the Oxford schoolmen, and
mostly from Oxford itself, that he put forth his series of books and
pamphlets on the relations of Church and State, on the subjection
of the clergy to civil rule, civil taxation and civil tribunals, on
pardons, indulgences, the worship of saints, transubstantiation, the
supremacy of Holy Scripture, and other like topics, besides those
abstruse scholastic themes which have lost their interest for the
present age. During his earlier struggles, the open patronage of John
of Gaunt, with the occasional protection of the Court, stood him in
good stead, and enabled him to brave not only episcopal censures
but Papal anathemas. His real strength, however, consisted in the
influence which he commanded in the University itself and, through
it, in the English people. When Pope Gregory XI. despatched a Bull to
the University of Oxford, calling for an inquiry into his erroneous
doctrines, the University barely consented to receive it, and took
no steps to comply with it, though it was supported by similar Bulls
addressed to the King and the English Bishops. When he was cited for
the second time to answer for his opinions in London, the citizens were
his avowed partisans. When his tenets had become discredited among
the aristocratic party by their supposed connection with the Peasant
Revolt, and were officially denounced, in 1381, by the Chancellor of
the University, sitting with twelve doctors as assessors, his cause
was, nevertheless, stoutly maintained by his followers at Oxford.
The next Chancellor, Robert Rygge, of Merton, was at heart among
his adherents, and informed the Archbishop Courtenay, in answer to
a mandate requiring him to search all the colleges and halls for
Wycliffites, that it was as much as his life was worth. The injunctions
of the Archbishop, like those of his predecessor, were practically
defied at Oxford, until the Crown at last entered the lists against the
Reformer. In 1382, a Parliament was held at Oxford. The Convocation
which accompanied it condemned Wyclif’s teaching on the Eucharist; the
condemnation was published in the school of the Augustinian monks,
where Wyclif himself was presiding as professor, and a peremptory order
was issued for his expulsion with all his disciples. He died in 1384,
but not before he had completed his English translation of the Bible.
The spirit which he had kindled continued to animate the University
for many years after his death. In Merton College alone several
eminent fellows were known as Wycliffites in the next generation, and
after the condemnation of Lollardism by the Council of London in
1411, it was thought necessary to pass a stringent University statute
to check the propagation of Lollard doctrines. By this statute, the
penalty of the greater excommunication was imposed upon all who should
disseminate Lollardism, candidates for degrees were required to abjure
it, and heads of colleges or halls were enjoined to exclude from their
societies any person even suspected of it.
[Sidenote: Feud between Northern and Southern ‘nations’]
While the University was agitated by these philosophical and
theological storms, its external life seems to have been comparatively
uneventful during the fourteenth century. We read, however, of a brutal
faction fight between ‘the Northern and Southern clerks’ in 1319, and
this ancient feud continued to disturb the peace of the University
for several generations. The Northern party was apparently the weaker
in the University, perhaps because it had sympathised with Simon
de Montfort. Accordingly we learn from Anthony Wood that, in 1334,
Merton College, which had been suspected of favouring that party,
sought to regain popularity in the University by declining to admit
Northern scholars. Again, in 1349, a strong faction in the same college
succeeded in procuring the election of Wylliott as Chancellor by force,
driving out the Northern proctor, and committing acts of sanguinary
violence. In 1327, we hear of a ‘most bloody outrage’ committed by the
scholars and townsmen of Oxford, joined with the townsmen of Abingdon,
on the monks of Abingdon Abbey; and in 1349-50 the ravages of the
Black Death were such that Oxford was almost deserted by its students,
and the Warden of Merton is said to have died of the plague. Two
other memorable events occurred in the reign of Edward III., which
deserve more special notice, since they fill a considerable space in
the historical records of the University. The one of these was the
secession to Stamford in 1333; the other was the great riot which broke
out on St. Scholastica’s Day, 1354.[5]
[Sidenote: Early secessions to Cambridge and Northampton]
The secession to Stamford was by no means the first migration of
Oxford students to another provincial town since the foundation of the
University. In 1209 and again in 1239 bodies of discontented Oxonians
had betaken themselves to Cambridge, and in 1260 a more important
secession took place, of which two different accounts have been given.
According to one, the emigrants were Northern students who had sided
with Simon de Montfort when he summoned his Parliament to Oxford in
1258, and framed those articles which became the signal for civil
war. It is further stated that, having been joined at Northampton by
refugees from Cambridge, and distinguished themselves in defending
the town against the Royal forces, they narrowly escaped the King’s
vengeance. According to another account, supported by the authority
of Anthony Wood, the King himself, fearing the effect of political
excitement on the masters and scholars of the University, expressly
sanctioned and encouraged the new settlement at Northampton, specially
recommending the emigrants to the good offices of the mayor and
bailiffs. At all events, their stay at Northampton was short, for they
returned to Oxford in 1264 or 1265, apparently in obedience to a
Royal order, but under a safe conduct from Simon de Montfort. It was
doubtless this Northampton colony which the founder of Merton had in
view when, in his first statutes issued in 1264, he gave the rulers of
his new society power to remove the students from Oxford to some other
University town—_aut alibi, uli studium viget generale_.
[Sidenote: Secession to Stamford in 1333]
The origin of the ‘University at Stamford’ is still more obscure.
Anthony Wood tells us simply that several masters, bachelors, and
scholars of Oxford ‘did under colour of some discord among them, and
upon some pretences sought after, depart hence unto Stamford, in
Lincolnshire, and there began, or rather renewed and continued, an
academy.’ The seceders themselves, appealing to Edward III. in January
1334, for permission to continue their studies at Stamford, vaguely
attributed their withdrawal from Oxford to disputes and disorders which
had long prevailed in that University. We may conjecture that it was
a secession of Northern students, but the only certain fact is that
it was headed by one William de Barnaby. The University of Oxford,
much alarmed by the ‘schism,’ as it was called, invoked the aid of
the Queen and the Bishop of Lincoln. At last, the King intervened,
but it was not till after three Royal monitions and the seizure of
their goods, that the malcontents were ejected from Stamford, and the
short-lived University broken up in the summer of 1335. A list of
offenders was sent to Edward III., but it only contained thirty-eight
names, including those of seventeen masters. The ‘Academy’ at Stamford,
however, left traces in the local names of streets, which are not even
yet wholly effaced, and the jealousy inspired by its rivalry was
not extinguished for more than a century. An University statute of
uncertain date, but clearly later than 1425, and evidently re-enacting
an order already in force, requires every inceptor in any faculty
to swear that he will not recognise any University besides Oxford
and Cambridge, and that he will not lecture or read at Stamford.
Meanwhile, a compact was made between Oxford and Cambridge for their
mutual protection against competition, and the dual monopoly of the two
ancient Universities was henceforth established.
[Sidenote: Growth of the proctorial authority]
The peace of the University was further promoted in this turbulent age
by the gradual development of the proctorial authority. The origin of
the proctors’, like that of the Chancellor’s, office is enveloped in
much obscurity. The first proctors named in the official list, which
follows the _Fasti_ of Anthony Wood, are Roger de Plumpton and Henry de
Godfree, who are set down as having officiated in 1267. Proctors are
also mentioned by name under the dates 1281, 1286, and 1288. During the
first half of the fourteenth century the entries of proctors occur in
fifteen years only, but in one case the same two proctors are expressly
stated to have served for two years, and it is quite possible that,
even if the election was annual, others may have served for longer
periods. Whatever may have been their original functions, there can
be no doubt that in 1322, if not much earlier, they became the chief
executive officers of the University. It was a main part of their
duty to keep the peace, as best they could, not only between scholars
and townspeople, but also between the numerous factions among the
scholars themselves, between the friars and secular clergy, between
the ‘artists’ and the ‘jurists,’ the Nominalists and the Realists,
the English students and those from Wales, Scotland, or Ireland, and,
most of all, the Northern and Southern nations. The standing quarrel
between these great academic parties overshadowed and absorbed into
itself all minor rivalries, and influenced every important question for
academic action, especially the election of the Chancellor. According
to Anthony Wood, it was in order to secure fairness and good order in
these elections that, in 1343, the University agreed that one proctor
should always be a Northerner and the other a Southerner, for the
purpose of acting as scrutineers of the votes. On the other hand, the
analogy of the University of Paris might lead us to regard them as
representatives, from the very first, of the ‘nations.’ At all events,
their powers were infinitely wider and more various than those of mere
returning-officers. They kept the money and accounts of the University,
regulated the whole system of lectures and disputations, were
responsible for academical discipline, and were empowered to impeach
the Chancellor himself. Like him, they were elected by the whole body
of regents and non-regents in Congregation, but their elections never
required the confirmation of the Bishop of Lincoln as diocesan, whereas
that of the Chancellor, as we have seen, was originally held invalid
until it had been thus confirmed.
[Sidenote: Concession by the Pope of freedom in the election of the
Chancellor]
In the reign of Edward III., however, a great step was made towards
academical independence by the disuse of this practice, and thenceforth
the University chose its Chancellor as freely as its proctors.
Some years before the way had been paved for this revolt against
ecclesiastical jurisdiction by a solemn compact between the University
and the Cardinal de Mota, then Archdeacon of Oxford by Papal provision,
but permanently non-resident. This Cardinal-Archdeacon had assumed
to exercise authority over the University through certain agents who
practised extortions for his benefit. Thence arose a controversy which
lasted twenty years, the Cardinal having instituted proceedings against
the University at the Papal Court, while the University appealed first
to Edward II. and afterwards to Edward III., both of whom, following
the settled policy of the Plantagenet kings, vigorously intervened
on its behalf. At last, after tedious negotiations, a compromise,
very favourable to University rights, was effected by the mediation
of William Bateman, Bishop of Norwich. The Chancellor was declared
to have archidiaconal jurisdiction over all doctors, masters, and
scholars, religious and lay, and even over all rectors, vicars, and
chaplains within the University, unless they should hold cures of souls
in Oxford, in which case they should pay canonical obedience to the
archdeacon. Moreover, in 1368, a Bull was procured from Pope Urban,
solemnly ordaining that thenceforth the election of a Chancellor by
the University itself should be sufficient, without the confirmation
of the diocesan. The reason alleged is a very practical one—that
great inconvenience and even danger to the peace of the University
had resulted from the necessity of sending a deputation to follow the
Bishop into distant parts, while in the meantime there was no resident
officer to keep turbulent persons in order.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] See Chapter IV.
CHAPTER IV.
CONFLICTS BETWEEN THE UNIVERSITY AND THE CITY.
[Sidenote: Royal award of 1290]
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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] In the meantime, in deference to complaints made by the Chancellor,
the King, Edward II., in the year 1315, regulated the price of
provisions in the Oxford market, as well as in the markets of other
towns.
CHAPTER V.
THE MONKS AND FRIARS AT OXFORD.
[Sidenote: Benedictines and Augustinians]
The history of the monastic settlements at Oxford, and of their
connection with the University, still remains to be written, but
enough is known to show how great a part they played in its earlier
life. For some time before, and for two generations after the Norman
Conquest, the Benedictine monks of St. Frideswide, having displaced
the secular canons, seem to have been the only body of regular clergy
in Oxford. In the monasteries of this Order had been sheltered most
of the scanty learning and culture which survived the night of the
Dark Ages. Having been well nigh crushed out and despoiled of their
few literary treasures in two Danish invasions, they had revived and
extended their influence in the eleventh century. In the reign of Henry
I., Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, is said to have established a convent
of Augustinian canons at St. Frideswide’s, under the care of Guimond,
chaplain to the King, and soon after 1129 they were reinforced by a
society of the same Order inhabiting the new abbey founded in that year
at Oseney. It does not clearly appear how far the Benedictines were
dislodged from Oxford by the new-comers, but they probably retained
houses there for their students until they obtained possession of
Gloucester Hall.
[Sidenote: Rise of mendicant Orders]
If the claustral schools of the Benedictines were the nursery of
the University, a still more powerful impulse was imparted to it
at a later period by the rise of the two great mendicant Orders,
both of which received munificent aid from Henry III. In 1221 the
Dominicans, or Black Friars, first appeared in Oxford, and located
themselves in the heart of the Jewry, from which they migrated forty
years afterwards into a new monastery by the water-gate in the parish
of St. Ebbe’s, near the modern Speedwell Street. Two or three years
later a little band of Franciscans, or Grey Friars, after a temporary
residence in Canterbury and London, found their way to Oxford, where
they were hospitably entertained by the Dominicans, and obtained the
loan of a house or hall in the parish of St. Ebbe’s. Notwithstanding
their exemplary self-denial and boundless charity, they succeeded in
accumulating funds sufficient to build a magnificent church on a site
near Paradise Gardens, and opened schools of their own. After the lapse
of another generation—in 1251 or 1252—a company of Augustinian Friars
were sent into England by Lanfranc, of Milan, and a detachment of
them settled on the southern part of the site now occupied by Wadham
College, purchased for them by Sir John Handlow, of Boarstall. Here
were instituted those famous disputations which, under the name of
‘Austins,’ became the chief school of academical grammar teaching in
the Middle Ages, and survived in a degenerate form until the end of the
last century. In 1254 the Carmelite, or White Friars, took up their
abode close by the Castle, whence they were transferred to Beaumont
Palace by Edward II. in 1313. In 1281 or 1291 Edmund, Earl of Cornwall,
founded, or refounded, the Cistercian Abbey of Rewley, and established
a brotherhood of Trinitarians without the East Gate. Meanwhile the
Benedictines had adopted Gloucester Hall (now Worcester College) as a
seminary for their younger members.
[Sidenote: Claustral schools]
Other smaller religious fraternities are known to have existed in
Oxford, and neighbouring abbeys, such as those of Oseney, Eynsham,
Littlemore, and Dorchester, kept houses in Oxford for the instruction
of boys and young men under their special charge. The systematic
teaching of theology was doubtless the main object of the lessons given
in the old claustral schools, and the curriculum of secular education
was as meagre in reality as it was imposing in profession. Yet even
in these a true spirit of scholarship was kept alive, and the great
teachers of the mendicant Orders were the leading exponents of the new
Aristotelian philosophy, which inspired the subtlest intellects of
the thirteenth century with the power of a revelation. These Orders
possessed a great advantage over the University itself, before colleges
were founded, in occupying handsome and spacious buildings, attractive
to poor students, while the University schools or lecture rooms were
apparently little better than sheds, and St. Mary’s Church was the one
edifice capable of being used for solemn academical functions.
[Sidenote: Migration from Paris and influence of Robert Grosteste]
Two causes favoured the rapid establishment of the mendicant Orders,
and especially of the Franciscans, in the schools of Oxford. In the
year 1228 a memorable conflict took place between the students and
citizens in Paris, in which the students were grossly maltreated.
Queen Blanche refused them redress, but Henry III. invited them to
settle in England, and Oxford, as well as Cambridge, benefited largely
by the migration which ensued.[7] These Paris students were mostly
the disciples of Dominican or Franciscan professors, some of whom
seem to have accompanied them, and when the Dominicans again became
paramount at Paris, the Franciscans retained a stronghold at Oxford.
Here they owed much to the powerful aid and patronage of Robert
Grosteste, the great scholastical and ecclesiastical reformer of the
thirteenth century. The fame of this remarkable man for scholarship,
as well as piety, rests upon the universal testimony of his own and
the succeeding age, including that of Roger Bacon, himself perhaps the
brightest luminary of mediæval Oxford. But it is only of late that his
influence upon the University has been fully understood. It was indeed
an extraordinary chance which elevated to the See of Lincoln, then
possessing a paramount jurisdiction over the University of Oxford, a
man who had been the foremost of Oxford teachers, the first theological
lecturer of the Franciscans. It was as a working professor and _Rector
scholarum_ that he infused new life into University studies by the
comprehensive vigour and originality of his teaching. When he commenced
his stormy episcopate in 1235, his attention was inevitably directed
to larger questions then disturbing the peace of Church and State,
but his spirit animated his staunch friend and successor, Adam Marsh
(or de Marisco), the great Franciscan college-tutor, as he may well
be called. It is the glory of the Franciscans to have produced in the
same age Adam Marsh and Roger Bacon, who is sometimes claimed as an
early Fellow of Merton College, but who really belongs to a period
immediately preceding the foundation of colleges. Though Roger Bacon
attests the premature degeneracy of the mendicant Orders in his own
lifetime, though his bold vindication of scientific truth is little
in harmony with the abject submission to Papal authority enjoined
upon the friars, and though he was actually persecuted by his own
community for persevering in his scientific researches, yet he was
essentially a Franciscan. It was in obedience to his patron, Clement
IV., that he compiled his three great treatises, embodying a knowledge
which no other scholar of his time possessed, advocating the claims
of mathematics and language against the frivolous dialectics of the
mediæval schools, and censuring without reserve the organised ignorance
which then usurped the place of science and philosophy.
[Sidenote: Position of the friars at Oxford, and University statutes
against them]
It is extremely difficult to ascertain the nature of the control which
the friars acquired over academical studies, or the place, if any,
which they occupied in the academical system. Of their proselytising
activity we have abundant evidence, and this was probably the motive of
their constant efforts to secure the privilege of reading and lecturing
in their own schools, instead of in those of the University; efforts
which at Paris seem to have been more or less successful. At Oxford
they are clearly recognised as religious bodies in a curious ordinance
of 1300, which enjoins that in academical processions the Preaching
Friars shall walk first, the White Friars next, and the Black Friars
last. It is scarcely less significant that, although in 1314 the church
of St. Mary was made the one authorised arena of academic ceremonies,
to the exclusion of the religious houses, the four Orders were
represented jointly with the University on the Papal Commission which
delivered this decision. In another statute, of 1326, every bachelor of
arts is required to dispute once and respond once each year before the
Augustins (_apud Augustinenses_), from which it must be inferred that
this Order had already acquired almost a monopoly of grammar-teaching.
But the lay and secular element in the University always rebelled
against the encroachments of the friars, and was destined to prevail.
It is a suggestive fact that Walter de Merton rigorously excluded every
‘religious’ person or member of a monastic Order from the benefits of
his foundation. Soon afterwards the University took alarm. In 1358[8]
we have a trenchant statute against the abduction of boys under
eighteen by the mendicant Orders, which shows how great a jealousy
they had provoked among the secular clergy of the University, for
whose special benefit Merton and other colleges were founded. This
statute expressly recites that noblemen and commoners are afraid to
send their sons to the University, lest they should be seduced by the
mendicant friars into joining their Order before arriving at years of
discretion; and that by these practices the peace of the University is
often disturbed and its numbers diminished. It is therefore enacted
that if any mendicant friar thus seduces or causes to be seduced any
youth under eighteen years of age, or procures his removal from Oxford
with intent that he may be received elsewhere into a religious Order,
no graduate of the cloister or society to which the offender belongs
shall be allowed to deliver or attend lectures in Oxford during the
year next ensuing. Another statute of the same date is apparently aimed
at the attempt of friars to lecture on logic before undergoing the
regular yearly course of disputations. This is immediately followed by
the public recantation extorted from a friar who had affirmed, among
other startling propositions, that tithes belonged more properly to
mendicants than to rectors of churches, and that the University was a
school of heresy. Another friar who had disparaged the School of Arts
was compelled to apologize with equal humility. Still the power of the
monastic Orders continued to be formidable, and at Cambridge they seem
to have ultimately carried their point in obtaining exemption from
academical exercises in Arts for their theological students; while at
Oxford there are many instances of college fellows joining their ranks.
[Sidenote: Intervention of the Pope and the King]
In 1365 the Pope entered the lists against the University on behalf
of the friars, and directed the Archbishop of Canterbury and bishops
to insist upon the Chancellor’s procuring the repeal of the obnoxious
statutes. In the meantime, however, the intervention of the King and
Parliament was invoked by memorials from both the Universities and
the four mendicant Orders. In consequence of this an ordinance was
made, with the assent of Parliament, by which the statutes against the
admission of scholars into these Orders were relaxed, but all bulls and
processes to be procured by the friars against the Universities from
the Court of Rome were prohibited and declared void. Still the feud
continued. One main source of Wyclif’s popularity in the University was
his unsparing denunciation of the Mendicants, and their decline was
among the most permanent results of the movement which he initiated.
But other causes were at work to undermine their influence. The rise
of the colleges was, in fact, the rise of the secular clergy, and in
organising itself more completely, the University naturally outgrew
its dependence on the missionary zeal for education which had been its
life-blood in the thirteenth century.
FOOTNOTES:
[7] See Chapter I. p. 9.
[8] This is the date assigned to the statute by Mr. Anstey in his
_Munimenta Academica_, on the authority of Anthony Wood, supported by
historical probability.
CHAPTER VI.
THE UNIVERSITY IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.
[Sidenote: Decline in numbers and studies]
The golden age of mediæval Oxford had culminated in the fourteenth
century, and the fifteenth century ushered in a period of intellectual
stagnation, which lasted for at least sixty years. Many causes, both
external and internal, combined to produce this result. The nation
itself, exhausted by the vain effort to conquer France, and roused from
its long dream of Imperial ambition, was hopeless and disheartened
until it was plunged into the most sanguinary of English Civil Wars.
The ecclesiastical independence of the English Church, which had defied
the most powerful of mediæval Popes, and had been fortified by the
recent Statutes of Provisors and Præmunire, was seriously threatened
by the growth of Ultramontane influences, while its revenues were
assailed by democratic agitation. The revolutionary petition of the
Commons, addressed to Henry IV., for the wholesale appropriation of
Church property to secular and charitable uses, boded no good to
Universities, which ranked as ecclesiastical bodies, and were taxed
with the clergy, though anti-monastic in their corporate spirit and in
the organisation of their colleges. Moreover, this petition had been
speedily followed by the actual confiscation of property belonging to
alien priories. Soon afterwards, the French Wars and Wars of the Roses
attracted into camps many a student who might otherwise have frequented
the University lecture rooms; the law no longer drew all its recruits
from University clerks; and even the incumbents of English livings
were sometimes chosen from the ranks of the regular clergy without
University training. It is possible that the rise and spread of the
Wycliffite movement at Oxford may have prejudiced it in the eyes of the
English hierarchy, as it certainly did in those of the Popes. At all
events, there is abundant evidence both of the fact that candidates
for Holy Orders resorted to Oxford in diminished numbers, and of the
construction which the University authorities put on that fact. In
1417, and again in 1438, the Archbishop and Bishops in Convocation
issued an appeal to patrons of benefices, calling upon them to give
a preference to University graduates. The memorial addressed to
Convocation on behalf of the University in 1438 complains that her
halls were deserted, and that not one thousand remained out of the many
thousands reported to have attended the schools of Oxford in the last
age—when, as we learn from a Royal charter (of 1355), ‘a multitude of
nobles, gentry, strangers, and others continually flocked thither.’ It
is stated that in 1450 only twenty out of two hundred schools which had
once been filled continued to be used for purposes of education. A few
years later we find a license granted to poor scholars, authorising
them to beg for alms—a practice of which Sir Thomas More speaks as if
it were not obsolete in his own time. It was to meet the necessities
of these destitute students that Archbishop Chichele established a
new University Chest; and it was for the relief of the _pauperes et
indigentes_, no less than for the support of the secular clergy, whose
decline at Oxford is amply attested by his charter, that he afterwards
founded the great college of All Souls.
[Sidenote: University delegates at the Councils of Constance and Basle]
Notwithstanding this decline, and the undoubted decay of learning, we
must not exaggerate either the actual degeneracy of the University or
its loss of reputation in Europe. No doubt, the French Wars tended to
weaken its ancient alliance with the great University of Paris, and
the growth of a native English literature under the inspiration of
Chaucer and Wyclif may well have contributed to its isolation, until
it came under the spell of the Italian Renaissance. But it is an error
to assert that Oxford was ‘nowhere to be found in the great Church
Councils of the fifteenth century.’[9] On the contrary, it was very
ably represented, both at Constance in 1414 and at Basle in 1431. At
the former of these Councils, Henry de Abendon, afterwards Warden of
Merton, defended with signal effect the claim of England to precedence
over Spain, and of Oxford to precedence over Salamanca. In order to
defray the expense of sending ‘orators’ to Basle, the University, in
its poverty, solicited a contribution, ‘were it ever so small,’ from
the Convocation of the Clergy. It found a worthy delegate, however, in
John Kemp, also of Merton, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, who, at
the subsequent Council of Florence, was made a Cardinal by the Pope.
[Sidenote: Foundation of Lincoln and All Souls’ Colleges]
Nor must we forget the great collegiate institutions which owe their
origin to this obscure period. The first of these, Lincoln College, was
founded in 1427, on a much humbler scale than New College, by Richard
Flemmyng, Bishop of Lincoln, who, having been a zealous promoter,
became a fanatical opponent of Wyclif’s doctrines, and distinguished
himself at the Council of Siena by attacks against the Hussites. His
main object was to extirpate the Wycliffite heresy, and he specially
provided that any Fellow tainted with these heresies was ‘to be cast
out, like a diseased sheep, from the fold of the college.’ All Souls,
founded in 1438 by Archbishop Chichele, was a far grander monument
of academical piety and was almost unique in its constitution. The
college was specially designed to be a chantry, but it was also to
be a place of study, and was to some extent modelled on New College,
where Chichele himself was educated. There were to be forty scholars,
being clerks, bound to study without intermission, twenty-four of whom
were to cultivate Arts and philosophy or theology, and sixteen the
canon or civil law. Magdalen College was founded in 1457 by William of
Waynflete, Bishop of Winchester, upon a plan borrowed from New College,
but without the peculiar feature of organic connection with a public
school, though its founder had been himself the head-master both of
Eton and of Winchester. There are clear traces in the statutes of the
coming Renaissance. Theology remains supreme, as at New College, but
moral and natural philosophy take the place of civil and canon law.
Grammar is preferred to logic, and even Latin verses are recognised.
Moreover, the lecturers in divinity and the two philosophies are to
instruct not only the college but the whole University.
[Sidenote: Extension of University buildings: the Divinity School and
the Bodleian Library]
While the collegiate system was thus expanding, and classical
scholarship was beginning to germinate under its shelter, the resources
of the University were enriched by two important accessions—the edifice
of the Old Schools, and the Library presented by the ‘good’ Duke
Humphry of Gloucester. In the early part of the fifteenth century,
thirty-two ‘schools’ were ranged along School Street, between the west
end of St. Mary’s and the city wall, near the present theatre. These
schools had superseded the simple chambers which the University had
a prescriptive right to hire in the houses of private citizens. Many
of them belonged to Oseney Abbey, and in the year 1439 some fourteen
of these, being ruinous, were taken down and rebuilt by the Abbot,
Thomas Hokenorton. The fabric erected by him is described as a long
pile of stone masonry, wholly destitute of architectural effect,
consisting of two stories, and divided into ten schools, five above
and five below, which, however, possessed no monopoly of University
lectures or exercises, since these continued to be carried on in other
public schools, if not in private lecture rooms, despite prohibitory
statutes. One reason why School Street was selected as the privileged
quarter for lecturing was doubtless that it immediately adjoined St.
Mary’s Church, which contained the old Congregation-house, in which the
University held all its solemn meetings, and which, in the Middle Ages,
had served at once as the court-house, the legislative chamber, the
examination-room, the public treasury, the hall of assembly, and the
place of worship, for the whole University. In this church theological
lectures had now been given for a century, since the Dominicans and
Franciscans had been compelled to abandon their practice of teaching
divinity to University students within their own walls, and the
University could afford to despise the rivalry of other religious
Orders lodged in the suburbs, at a distance from School Street. In 1426
or 1427 a vacant plot was purchased by the University from Balliol
College, and in 1480 the present Divinity School was finally opened for
the greatest of the faculties, by the aid of liberal contributions from
the Benedictine monks, Archbishop Chichele, several cathedral bodies,
Duke Humphry, and the executors of Cardinal Beaufort, Archbishop Kemp,
and Edmund Duke of Somerset of 1447. In the meantime, Duke Humphry,
acceding to a suggestion from the University, had initiated the
erection of a Public Library over the Divinity School. The building
was retarded by the withdrawal of the masons, under Royal mandate,
for works at Windsor and Eton, nor was it completed till 1480, by the
aid of Thomas Kemp, Bishop of London, who contributed 1,000 marks,
and has been regarded as a second founder. The original collection of
books presented by Duke Humphry to the University in 1439 consisted of
129 volumes only, but it was supplemented by a second gift in 1443.
Still, the whole University Library, comprising the previous legacies
of Angerville and Cobham, is said to have contained no more than 500
volumes when it was dispersed at the Reformation. Duke Humphry is also
said to have instituted a professorial Chair for Arts and Philosophy,
which, however, never came into operation, perhaps because the means
were not forthcoming to endow it adequately. For it is certain that
at this period the resources of the University were miserably small,
and chiefly wasted in the enormous expense of suits at the Court of
Rome, whose appellate jurisdiction it had always respected, and whose
immediate intervention it often invoked.[10]
[Sidenote: Final organisation of mediæval lectures and examinations]
The mediæval system of academical studies and examinations may be
considered to have reached its maturity in the middle of the fifteenth
century. At this period the University enjoyed comparative repose,
and its constitution was fully organised, though its vigour, as we
have seen, was grievously impaired. Nine colleges had already been
founded, and, by the statute passed in 1432 for the suppression of
‘chamber-dekyns,’ all members of the University were required to be
inmates of some college or hall, except those who should be specially
licensed by the Chancellor to live in lay houses. By another statute
of the same year, the discipline of the University had been further
secured by a peremptory rule that all principals of halls should
be graduates, or qualified by learning and character to rule their
respective households.[11] The proctorial authority was now firmly
established under the ordinance of 1343. Courses of public lectures
were constantly delivered on all the subjects recognised by the
University in the official schools, and private instruction was
supplied to their own inmates by the various colleges and halls.
[Sidenote: University curriculum]
The institution of an University curriculum, or a set course of books
or subjects to be studied by candidates for degrees in the various
faculties, may be dated from the statutes given to the University
of Paris by the Cardinal Legate, Robert de Courçon, at the very
beginning of the thirteenth century. The Oxford curriculum seems to
have varied but little between the age of the schoolmen and that of
the Renaissance. It is practically certain that admission to the
University was guarded by no entrance examination. Grammar was treated
as the essential foundation of all knowledge, and the University
abounded in grammar schools, but the superstructure raised upon this
foundation appears to have been mainly logical. Both grammar and
logic, however, represented accomplishments which in that age were
supposed to be useful—grammar as giving the power of reading and
writing Latin; logic, supplemented by rhetoric, as the instrument
of controversy and persuasion. Since proficiency in all studies was
tested by disputation, logic was naturally elevated into a position
of supremacy. A statute passed in 1408 required all candidates for
what is now called a B.A. degree to become ‘_sophistæ generales_,’ and
practise themselves in logical disputations for a year at least in the
‘Parvisum,’ or classrooms for beginners, before offering themselves
for the preliminary ordeal of Responsions. This examination seems to
have consisted in arguing and answering questions on a given thesis
(_respondere ad quæstionem_ or _de quæstione_), and the student who
had passed it at the end of his first year was still bound under
this statute to hear lectures on prescribed books in three branches
of the Faculty of Arts—logic, mathematics, and grammar, which
always ranked lowest in the scale of studies. The exercises which
constituted ‘determination’[12] were conducted during Lent in the
schools of Masters apparently selected by the candidates themselves,
for the last clause in the statute actually protects them against
impressment or solicitation by Masters desirous of forcing them into
their own schools. The examination was mainly, if not exclusively,
logical and grammatical, the duty of the examining master being to
stop the candidate if he should wander into other subjects or use
unsound arguments. Nothing is said in this statute of candidates once
admitted to determine being rejected for incompetence, but there are
rules to prevent their being admitted at all, unless duly qualified by
character, ability, age, and even stature.
[Sidenote: Statute of 1431, regulating ‘inception’]
The leading statute which regulated the more important act of
‘inception,’ or admission to the M.A. degree, was passed in 1431. It
opens with a somewhat pedantic and solemn preamble, setting forth that
everyone who aspires to be entitled a Master or Professor of Arts ought
to have undergone a complete training in the seven sciences and the
three philosophies. These seven sciences were no other than the old
Trivials and Quadrivials which had become the standard subjects of
education ever since the revival of learning under Charlemagne—grammar,
rhetoric and logic; arithmetic, music, geometry and astronomy. The
three so-called philosophies were natural, moral, and metaphysical. The
statute proceeds to ordain that all who are presented for ‘inception’
shall have satisfied all the requirements for ‘determination,’ and
shall also have regularly and earnestly attended lectures in the seven
branches of knowledge here called the seven liberal Arts, as well as
in the three philosophies, during eight years for at least thirty
‘reading’ days in each year,[13] according to a certain graduated
order prescribed in the statute itself. Thus, grammar was to occupy
one year, rhetoric three years, logic three years, arithmetic one
year, music one year, geometry two years, astronomy two years, natural
philosophy, moral philosophy, and metaphysical philosophy three years
each. The orthodox text-books in which each subject is to be studied
are specifically mentioned, and include Priscian, Boethius, and Euclid,
but, above all, Aristotle, who is recognised as the supreme authority
on rhetoric, logic, and all three philosophies.
[Sidenote: Duties of regent masters]
Having fulfilled all these conditions, and procured all the necessary
certificates of his moral and intellectual competence, the bachelor
applying for a M.A. degree was presented before the Chancellor and
Proctors in Congregation, when, after taking certain oaths, one
of which bound him not to foment quarrels between Northerners and
Southerners, he was officially licensed to deliver lectures. On this
ceremony, which constituted him a Master of Arts, the statute of 1431
is silent, but we know from other sources that a M.A. degree was
chiefly, if not exclusively, sought as a passport to ‘inception.’ This
inception, which involved much expense[14] and was attended by many
formalities, consisted in taking possession of a school, and solemnly
commencing a course of lectures as a teaching or ‘regent’ master. It
is provided in the statute that at the end of every term (or year)
the proctors shall ascertain the number of regent masters willing
to lecture, and shall divide them according to seniority, into ten
companies as nearly equal in number as possible. The junior company,
with the superintendents of grammar schools, are to lecture in grammar,
and the rest are apparently to be so ranged in an ascending scale that
the highest subjects may be assigned to the seniors. It is expressly
ordained, in order to exclude forbidden lore, that none shall lecture
in any books except those allowed by statute. The mode of lecturing
is also strictly prescribed. First, the text is to be read out, then
its substance and meaning are to be explained; afterwards special
passages are to be noted, and lastly, questions are to be raised and
discussed, but only such as naturally arise out of the text, so that
no prohibited sciences may be taught. Such provisions for public
lecturing were necessary before either an University professoriate or
a system of college tuition was developed, and all regent masters,
unless exempted, were statutably bound to lecture for nearly two years
after inception. During this period they were also specially bound to
attend the University ‘Congregation,’ by which degrees were granted,
and even when they became non-regents they were liable to be summoned
for this purpose by the University Bedel, who sounded a bell in order
to make a quorum; whence that assembly was technically called the House
of Regents and Non-Regents. In the earliest times, when it consisted of
teachers only, it had been the sole legislature of the University. It
seems, however, that when degrees were more and more sought as titles
of honour or certificates of proficiency, and graduates frequently
obtained exemptions from the duty of teaching, another more select
body, called the ‘Black Congregation,’ assumed the right of discussing
measures to be afterwards laid before the ‘Great Congregation,’ as it
then came to be called, or ‘Convocation,’ as it was called in later
times, when the preliminary assembly had at last usurped the name of
‘Congregation.’
[Sidenote: Residence for degrees in the higher faculties]
The faculty of Arts, however, was but one of several, though it
embraced the great majority of graduates, and maintained an undisputed
supremacy. The ‘science’ of grammar always filled a subordinate
position, and its requirements were less onerous, but in all the
superior faculties of civil or canon law, medicine, and theology, the
ordinary rule was to have graduated first in Arts, and afterwards to
have responded, disputed, and determined in the studies of the faculty
before incepting and receiving the final degree of Master or Doctor,
then practically synonymous. Even those who had graduated in Arts were
required to study theology five years before their ‘opponency’ or
degree-examination, while those who had not so graduated were compelled
to go through a seven years’ course; and in either case two years
more of probation were exacted before permission could be obtained to
lecture on the ‘Sentences.’ Thus an Oxford career occupied far more of
life in those days than in our own, and academical residence certainly
extended over a greater part of each year. It was a natural consequence
that University influences left a far deeper impress on the characters
and minds of the students, and that such movements as the Renaissance
and the Reformation passed through a long period of academical
incubation before they acquired a hold over the mass of the nation.
FOOTNOTES:
[9] Huber’s _English Universities_, vol. 1, ch. vi., sect. 80.
[10] An instance of this may be found in the care taken by Archbishop
Chichele, in 1439, to procure a Bull from Pope Eugenius IV. for the
foundation of All Souls’ College.
[11] These statutes were little more than repetitions or confirmations
of ordinances made by King Henry V. in 1421.
[12] The meaning of ‘determination’ is still the subject of dispute.
Mr. Boase, in the preface to his _Register of the University of
Oxford_, explains it thus: ‘After taking his degree, the bachelor
“determined,” that is, instead of disputing himself, he presided
over disputations, and gave out his determination or decision on the
questions discussed.’
[13] This seems the most probable interpretation of a somewhat obscure
passage in the statute, which speaks of _octo annorum terminos_, and
afterwards of _tres terminos_ or _duo terminos anni_, as if _terminus_
signified a period, and not an academical Term. It would be almost
impossible to attend all the lectures here required for thirty reading
days in each Term.
[14] It is stated that, so far back as 1268, the inceptors in civil
law were numerous enough to overflow the Oxford hostels, and to be
quartered in Oseney Abbey. In 1431 the expense to be incurred in
scholastic banquets on inception in arts was limited by statute.
CHAPTER VII.
THE RENAISSANCE, THE REFORMATION, AND THE TUDOR PERIOD.
[Sidenote: Revival of academical life at the end of the fifteenth
century]
The reign of Edward IV. may be regarded as a singularly blank period in
University annals. The Wars of the Roses, in which feudalism perished
by its own hand, but which left so few traces on the national life,
hardly disturbed the academical repose; and the obscurity which hangs
over the next chapter in the history of the nation rests equally upon
that of the University. But a gradual recovery was in progress, and
soon yielded visible fruits. The close of the fifteenth century found
the University of Oxford far more complete in its outward structure,
if somewhat less vigorous in its inward life, than it had been two
centuries earlier. It was no longer a loose aggregate of students under
the paramount jurisdiction of a bishop resident at Lincoln, but an
organised institution, with a government of its own, under the special
protection of the Crown, and capable of being used as a powerful engine
for effecting or resisting changes in Church or State. While the old
order was yielding place to new, and the fountains of scholastic
thought were running dry, there had been a marked decay in academical
energy, and the declining number of students attested the decreased
activity of teaching. But the revival of classical learning, promoted
by the dispersion of Greek scholars after the fall of Constantinople,
was accompanied or followed by that marvellous series of events which
divides modern from mediæval history—the invention of printing, aided
by the improvement of paper-making; the discovery of America; the
consolidation of the European monarchies; and the Reformation itself.
The first effect of the enthusiasm kindled by these new influences was
to invigorate the University; it was not until their secondary effects
were felt that a reaction manifested itself.
[Sidenote: Checked by the Reformation]
The great educational movement which sprang from the Reformation was
essentially popular rather than academical, and by no means tended to
increase the relative importance of the Universities. The cause of this
is not difficult to discover. When the only books were manuscripts, the
Universities and the very few other institutions which possessed large
collections of manuscripts attracted the whole literary class from all
parts of the country. When instruction in the sciences was only to be
obtained from the lips of a living teacher, and when schools hardly
existed elsewhere, except in connection with cathedrals or monasteries,
the lecture rooms of Oxford were thronged with students of all ages,
and represented almost the entire machinery of national education. When
the Church ruled supreme over the wide realm of thought, and learning
was the monopoly of ‘clerics,’ the great ecclesiastical stronghold of
Oxford far surpassed the metropolis itself as an intellectual centre.
When Latin was the one language of scholars, and English literature
scarcely existed, the academical masters of Latinity, especially as
they were carefully trained in disputation, maintained a peerless
supremacy over their less favoured countrymen. In the larger and
freer life which took its birth from the Reformation, the exclusive
privileges of the Universities became inevitably depreciated, and
their degeneracy in the early part of the sixteenth century presents
a humiliating contrast with their ascendency in the fourteenth. The
dissolution of monasteries, the high-handed visitations of the Tudor
Sovereigns, and the diversion of the national energies into new
careers, operated concurrently to empty Oxford of students, nor was it
until near the end of the century that its tone was gradually restored
by the wise policy of Queen Elizabeth.
[Sidenote: Pioneers of the new learning at Oxford]
During the reign of Henry VII. the University was strongly agitated
by the struggle between the old scholastic philosophy and the new
learning of the Renaissance. The credit of introducing classical
studies, and especially that of Greek literature, has sometimes been
claimed for the Reformation, but it is rather due to a liberal spirit
then springing up in the Catholic world, and especially to Italian
influences. It was from Italy that England caught the new impulse, and
that Oxford imported numerous MSS. of classical authors, while printing
was still almost a fine art. Perhaps the foundation of grammar schools
at Winchester and Eton for the special instruction of boys in Latin
may have contributed to pave the way for the classical revival at the
Universities. At all events, it was in progress before the Reformation,
and was promoted by several enlightened bishops and abbots of the old
religion, and may not improperly be regarded as a legacy of Catholic
to Protestant England. Writing in 1497, Erasmus, who is sometimes
described as the father of classical studies in England, speaks of a
‘rich harvest of classical literature’ as already flourishing at Oxford
on every side, and declares that he could well nigh forget Italy in the
society of Colet, Grocyn, Lynacre, and More. Indeed, he places England,
in respect of culture, above France or Germany, and second to Italy
alone. In fact, we soon afterwards find Richard Croke, an Englishman,
teaching Greek at Leipsic, whence he migrated, a few years later, to
succeed Erasmus himself as Professor at Cambridge.
[Sidenote: Erasmus, More, Colet, Grocyn, and Linacre]
During his first visit to Oxford, Erasmus lodged in a conventual house
of Augustin Canons, known as St. Mary’s College, opposite New Inn
Hall. Of the names thus commemorated by him, that of Sir Thomas More
belongs to the political history of England, but he also deserves to be
remembered as the young student of Canterbury College, among the most
ardent disciples and most zealous promoters of classical teaching at
Oxford. Colet, who had known More in the house of Cardinal Morton, and
who became famous as the founder of St. Paul’s School, was educated at
Magdalen College, but afterwards visited France and Italy, whence he
returned in 1497, to lecture publicly but gratuitously on St. Paul’s
Epistles, and to become a leading pioneer of Latin scholarship in
the University. Grocyn had been elected Fellow of New College as far
back as 1467, and was Divinity Reader at Magdalen College about 1483.
It was not until some years later that he went to Italy for purposes
of study, and devoted himself to Greek and Latin. On his return, he
resided in Exeter College, and delivered the first public lectures on
Greek, which seem to have been attended by Erasmus himself, who speaks
of him with unfailing respect. Lynacre was elected Fellow of All Souls
in 1484, but, like Colet and Grocyn, owed his erudition chiefly to his
residence in Italy, where he became Professor of Medicine at Padua. But
his range of studies was so wide that it was doubted of him whether he
was ‘a better Latinist or Grecian, a better grammarian or physician.’
In modern times he is chiefly known as among the founders, and as the
first President, of the College of Physicians; while his principal
claim to gratitude at Oxford consists in his posthumous foundation of
two Readerships in Physiology at Merton College, which have since been
consolidated into a Professorship of Anatomy. The new studies, however,
met with violent opposition, and several University dignitaries
publicly lectured against Erasmus. Indeed, if we are to believe Anthony
Wood, in spite of all the reformers’ efforts, academical learning was
still in a deplorable state in 1508, the last year of Henry VII.’s
reign. ‘The schools were much frequented with querks and sophistry.
All things, whether taught or written, seemed to be trite or inane.
No pleasant streams of humanity or mythology were gliding among us,
and the Greek language, from whence the greater part of knowledge is
derived, was at a very low ebb, or in a manner forgotten.’
[Sidenote: Foundation of Corpus Christi College by Bishop Fox]
The first endowed lectureship of the Greek language at Oxford was
instituted by Richard Fox, Bishop of Winchester, in 1516, as part of
his new foundation of Corpus Christi College. His original intention
had been to found a monastery, and in founding a college instead, with
twenty fellows and twenty scholars, he clearly showed his desire to
encourage the classics by providing also for Professors of Greek and
Latin, as well as of theology, whose lectures should be open to all the
University. By virtue of this endowment, Bishop Fox has been regarded
as the founder of the professorial system, though he must perhaps share
that honour, not only with William of Waynflete, but with Margaret,
Countess of Richmond, mother of Henry VII., who had already founded the
Margaret Professorship of Divinity in 1502. But Fox’s liberal spirit
and sympathy with the Renaissance was shown in provisions, hitherto
unknown, for instruction in the classical authors, for the colloquial
use of Greek as well as Latin, and for the election of lecturers from
Greece and Southern Italy. It was upon these grounds that Erasmus
predicted a great future for the college as a stronghold of the
classical movement.
[Sidenote: Greeks and Trojans]
That movement had already provoked a strange outbreak of academical
barbarism in the University of Oxford. The faction of ‘Trojans,’ as
they called themselves, from their enmity to Greek letters, seems to
have been partly animated by a popular aversion to change, and partly
by a far-sighted appreciation of the anti-Catholic tendencies inherent
in the Renaissance. It is said to have originated in hostility to
Grocyn’s Greek lectures at Exeter College; but it reached its height
in the early part of Henry VIII.’s reign, by which time, however, the
classics had won powerful friends at Court, and the ‘Greeks’ were
protected by a peremptory Royal order, issued in 1519. It is remarkable
that no trace of these fierce controversies between Scholasticism
and the New Learning, still less of the impending revolution in the
national religion, is to be discerned in the statutes of Brasenose,
the latest of the pre-Reformation colleges, issued in 1521, nine years
after its foundation. Under these statutes the scholars were bound
to study the old subjects of the scholastic curriculum, ‘Sophistry,
Logic, and Philosophy, and afterwards Divinity ... for the advancement
of Holy Church, and for the support and exaltation of the Christian
faith.’ On the other hand, there are ample proofs that long before
the Old Learning ceased to rule the University system of disputations
and examinations, the Renaissance had already penetrated into the
University and College Libraries.
[Sidenote: Cardinal Wolsey and the foundation of Christ Church]
The great minister of Henry VIII., Cardinal Wolsey, must always be
remembered as the most discerning as well as the most generous patron
of liberal culture, which he admired for its own sake, though he
naturally regarded it as the handmaid of the Church. It was in 1518
that Wolsey came to Oxford, in company with Catharine of Aragon,
while the King remained behind at Abingdon. The University, doubtless
perceiving the danger of impending spoliation, ‘made a solemn and
ample decree, not only of giving up their statutes into the Cardinal’s
hands, to be reformed, corrected, renewed, and the like, but also their
liberties, indulgences, privileges, nay the whole University (the
colleges excepted), to be by him disposed and framed into good order.’
Wolsey did not disappoint their confidence, and some five years later
(in 1523) returned the charters, with a new and still more beneficial
one procured from the King. At this period he is believed to have
contemplated the foundation of more than one University professorship
and the erection of University lecture-rooms, but if he ever
entertained such an idea, it was abandoned. In the meantime, however,
he was projecting the foundation of a college for secular clergy on
a scale of grandeur hitherto unknown, for the purpose (as Huber well
says) of ‘cultivating the new literature in the service of the old
Church.’ In order to endow ‘Cardinal College,’ as it was to be called,
twenty-two priories and convents were suppressed, under Papal and Royal
authority, and their revenues, amounting to 2,000_l._, were diverted to
the maintenance of ten professorships, as well as of sixty canonists
and forty priests. The students were to be trained in a great school
founded at Ipswich, as those of New College were trained at Winchester.
The first stone of the building was laid in 1525; scholars had been
engaged from Cambridge and the Continent to serve on the professorial
staff; the abbey church of St. Frideswide’s had been appropriated
as the college chapel; and the splendid kitchen, still preserved,
was already completed, when the fall of Wolsey in 1529 arrested the
execution of this grand design.
[Sidenote: Action of the University on the questions of the Divorce and
the Royal Supremacy]
The King, engrossed with the question of obtaining a divorce from
Catharine of Aragon, was in no mood to indulge the sympathy which
he really felt towards learned institutions, and was rather bent
on obtaining a favourable award from Oxford and the other great
Universities of Europe on the legality of his marriage. The compliance
of the Oxford Convocation was not extorted without grievous pressure.
The younger Masters of Arts, as Wood informs us, stood firm in refusing
to sanction the divorce, and, notwithstanding a threatening letter
from the King himself, the desired vote was only secured, after
repeated failures, by the exclusion of the graduates in Arts from
the Convocation. Soon after this memorable but somewhat disgraceful
vote, in April 1530, the King again visited Oxford, and took back into
his own hands the charters both of the University and of the city,
which had again begun to challenge academical privileges. They were
not restored until 1543, and during the interval the University was
again invited to pronounce a solemn verdict—no longer upon a question
of private right, but on the gravest issue of national policy ever
submitted to its judgment. For by this time the preliminary events
which ushered in the English Reformation were following each other in
rapid succession. In July 1530, the replies of several Universities in
favour of the divorce had been forwarded to the Pope by the hand of
Cranmer, and in the following March they were laid before Parliament.
In November 1530, Cardinal Wolsey, charged with treason, died at
Leicester on his way to the Tower. At the beginning of 1531, the
clergy, having bought off the penalties of _præmunire_, were induced,
under strong pressure, to acknowledge Henry as ‘Head of the Church
and Clergy, so far as the law of Christ will allow.’ In 1532, an
Act was passed for restraining all appeals to Rome, Sir Thomas More
resigned the Chancellorship, and Henry married Ann Boleyn. In 1533,
Cranmer, having succeeded Warham as Archbishop of Canterbury, not only
pronounced the King’s marriage with Catharine to be null and void, but
that with Anne Boleyn to be good and lawful. In 1534, the clergy in
Convocation were forbidden to make constitutions except by the royal
assent, and the Act was passed forbidding the payment of _annates_ to
Rome. In the same year the formal separation of the English Church
from Rome was consummated by the great Act 25 Hen. VIII. cap. 21, which
left doctrine untouched, it is true, but abolished the authority of
the Pope in England, while it also rendered the monasteries liable to
visitation by commission under the Great Seal. In 1535, under the Act
of Supremacy (26 Hen. VIII. cap. 1), the King assumed the title of
‘Supreme Head of the Church of England’; Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas
More were executed for denying the Royal supremacy, and Thomas Cromwell
was appointed Vicar-General of England.
[Sidenote: Compliance of the University rewarded by Royal favour]
It was in 1534 that the University was invited to concur in the
foregone conclusion in favour of separation from Rome, dictated by
canonists and theologians in the King’s interest. It did so with little
hesitation, and it is probable that an honest zeal for the independence
of the National Church mingled with less worthy motives in eliciting
the required consent. Moreover, Protestant doctrines, propagated by
some of the scholars imported from Cambridge and the Continent, had
already taken root in Oxford soil, and several members of Cardinal
College had already undergone persecution. In the following year a
visitation of the University was instituted, for the double purpose
of establishing ecclesiastical conformity and supplanting the old
scholastic culture by a large infusion of classical learning. The study
of the Canon Law was suppressed, and Leighton, one of the visitors,
joyfully reported that ‘Dunce’ (Duns Scotus) was ‘set in Bocardo,’
or relegated to an academical limbo, while the leaves of scholastic
manuscripts, torn up by wholesale, might be seen fluttering about
New College quadrangle. On the other hand, the study of Aristotle was
enjoined, together with that of the Holy Scriptures, and an important
concession was made to reward the loyalty of the University, which
had cheerfully surrendered its rights and property into the King’s
hands. It was now exempted from the payment of tenths, or first fruits,
granted by statute to the Crown, on condition of such classical
lectureships being founded there ‘as the Kynge’s majestie shall assigne
or appoynte.’ The support of these lectureships was charged upon the
five colleges supposed to be the richest, including Corpus, where
classical lectureships already existed, and the students of the other
seven colleges were directed to attend some of the courses daily. At
the same time, following the example of his grandmother, the Countess
Margaret of Richmond, the King founded and endowed with a yearly
stipend of 40_l._ each five Regius Professorships of Divinity, Hebrew,
Greek, Medicine, and Civil Law. The endowment was, of course, derived
from the spoils of the Church, but Henry VIII. deserves credit for a
sincere desire to promote learning. In 1532, three years after Wolsey’s
fall, he took up his great minister’s design and refounded Cardinal
College, though on a reduced scale, under the name of King Henry the
Eighth’s College. In 1545 he dissolved it, and finally reconstituted
it under the name of Christ Church, and in the following year
transferred his new episcopal see of Oxford from Oseney Abbey to St.
Frideswide’s, blending the collegiate with the cathedral establishment
by placing it under the control of a dean and eight canons. We owe
to Holinshed the memorable reply made by the King to some of his
courtiers who fondly hoped that he would have dealt with University
endowments, and especially with this infant college, as he had dealt
with the monasteries. ‘Whereas wee had a regard onlie to pull down
sin by defacing the monasteries, you have a desire also to overthrow
all goodness by subversion of colleges. I tell you, sirs, that I
judge no land in England better bestowed than that which is given to
our Universities. For by their maintenance our realme shall be well
governed when we be dead and rotten. I love not learning so ill that I
will impair the revenewes of anie one House by a penie, whereby it may
be upholden.’
[Sidenote: The first effects of the Reformation injurious to the
University]
The reason why college revenues were spared while monastic revenues
were confiscated is not difficult to divine, without supposing that
Henry VIII. was pacified by the mediation of Catherine Parr. The
occupants of monasteries were regarded as mercenaries of a foreign
power which had become the enemy of the monarchy; the colleges were
nurseries of the secular clergy, who had never been obnoxious to the
State, who shared to a great extent the national spirit, and most
of whom adopted the new ecclesiastical order. The wise foresight of
the founders had excluded monks and friars as aliens from collegiate
societies; the constitution of these was mainly secular, and their
dissolution was not demanded by popular opinion. Nevertheless, the
general sense of insecurity and habit of servility which prevailed
under the despotic rule of Henry could not but have a blighting effect
on University life. Such acts as the execution of Sir Thomas More, one
of the brightest stars of the English Renaissance, and the arbitrary
restrictions imposed on Protestantism by the Six Articles, struck
at the root of intellectual liberty, and the early stages of the
Reformation went far to depress the academical enthusiasm kindled by
the Catholic Renaissance.
[Sidenote: Iconoclastic visitation under Edward VI.]
The dissolution of the monasteries, instead of aggrandising the
University, contributed to depopulate it, since many of the poorer
students, formerly harboured in monastic houses or lodgings, or
supported by monastic exhibitions, were now cast adrift. The Colleges
and Chantries Act, though never strictly executed, shook public
confidence in academical endowments, and at the beginning of Edward
VI.’s reign the University was far less prosperous than it had been
under Wolsey. The number of degrees continued to fall off, and the
number of halls to dwindle, as religious controversy usurped the place
of education, and the University was used as an instrument to advance
the political or ecclesiastical aims of the Sovereign. Henry VIII. had
obtained its sanction to his divorce and to his revolt against Rome;
the Protector Somerset and Cranmer determined to reform it in the
interests of the new Anglican Church. Several years before, Cranmer had
appointed commissions to regulate internal discipline in two colleges
of which he was Visitor, but the Injunctions which he issued upon their
recommendation involved no change of religious faith or ordinances.
Another royal commission or Visitation, with sweeping powers, was
issued for this purpose in 1549. A like commission was appointed for
the University of Cambridge, and the new statutes drawn up for both
Universities were framed on like principles, ‘in order that each
eye of the nation might be set in motion by similar muscles.’ The
‘Edwardine’ code, as it was afterwards called, was of course so framed
as to eliminate everything which favoured Popery from the constitution
of the University, but it was not otherwise revolutionary, and, though
it soon fell into disuse, it remained nominally in force until it
was abrogated by the ‘Caroline’ statutes under the chancellorship
of Laud. But the commissioners were not equally forbearing in their
treatment of individuals, for they proceeded to expel all academical
dignitaries found guilty of upholding the old faith. In dealing with
colleges, the spirit in which they acted was ruthlessly iconoclastic,
and not only were the old services abolished, but altars, images,
statues, ‘the things called organs,’ and everything else which
seemed to savour of ‘superstition,’ were defaced or swept away. The
demolition of the magnificent reredos in the chapel of All Souls’ was
assuredly no isolated specimen of their handiwork, though we have no
equally striking record of Vandalism in other colleges. The amount of
destruction wrought by their orders among the libraries and chapels of
colleges cannot now be estimated, but it was certainly enormous, and
‘cartloads’ of classical and scientific manuscripts were consigned to
the flames, together with many an illuminated masterpiece of scholastic
literature.
[Sidenote: Leniency towards colleges]
At the same time, while the study of canon law was virtually
suppressed, that of civil law, ancient philosophy, Hebrew, mathematics,
logic, rhetoric, and medicine was expressly encouraged by the Visitors.
Eminent theologians were invited from the continent, and the lectures
of Peter Martyr and others who accepted the invitation were crowded
with eager students. It was even designed to reconstitute All Souls’ as
a college for the special cultivation of civil law, while New College
should be devoted exclusively to ‘artists.’ Many exhibitions for poor
boys were suppressed, the Magdalen Grammar School was saved only by
earnest remonstrances from the citizens, and some new dispositions were
made of college revenues with little regard to founders’ intentions.
But the spoliation does not seem to have been so indiscriminate as
Anthony Wood represents it. The Protector Somerset, being pressed,
like Henry VIII., to sanction the general disendowment of colleges,
repelled the proposal with equal indignation; and indeed there is
some reason to believe that colleges were now regarded with peculiar
favour as seminaries of classical learning, and comparatively free
from the scholastic and mediæval spirit which still animated the
University system. Perhaps for this reason the Visitors forbore to
exercise their power of consolidating several colleges into one,
though they did not scruple to remove obnoxious Heads and fellows.
Some of their injunctions exhibit much good sense, and even anticipate
modern reforms, such as those which make fellowships terminable and
tenable only on condition of six months’ residence, which insist on
a matriculation-examination in grammar and Latin, and which require
that lectures shall be followed by examinations. It is remarkable
that at Magdalen and All Souls’ one fellowship was to be reserved
for Irishmen. Others of their injunctions were purely disciplinary,
such as those which prohibit undue expenditure on banquets after
disputations, the practice of gambling, and the use of cards in
term-time. Such regulations point to an increase of luxury consequent
on the development of colleges, originally designed for the poor but
now frequented by a wealthier class. Polemical divinity, stimulated by
Peter Martyr’s discourses on the Eucharist, continued to flourish; but,
with this exception, University studies were languishing, and while
foreign divines were being imported into England, Oxford professors
of civil law were emigrating to Louvain. The non-collegiate students
became fewer and fewer; the most experienced teachers gradually
disappeared; the impulse of the Renaissance died away; the new spirit
of inquiry failed to supply the place of the old ecclesiastical order;
the attractions of trade began to compete with those of learning, and
the Universities no longer monopolised the most promising youths in the
country who declined the profession of arms.
[Sidenote: Reaction under Mary. Martyrdom of Ridley, Latimer, and
Cranmer]
The accession of Mary, in 1553, ushered in a short-lived reaction. As
the leading Romanist divines had quitted Oxford on the proclamation of
Edward VI., so now the leading Protestants, headed by Peter Martyr,
were fain to make their escape, though not till after Jewell had been
employed to draw up a congratulatory epistle to the Queen, whose policy
was not fully revealed at the outset of her reign. Heads and fellows of
colleges were released from their obligation to renounce the authority
of the Pope, the Mass superseded the Common Prayer-book, and Gardiner,
bishop of Winchester, instituted a Visitation of the three colleges
under his own personal jurisdiction. After the execution of Lady Jane
Grey and the Queen’s marriage with Philip II. the spirit of persecution
rapidly developed itself, all statutes passed against the Papacy since
the twentieth year of Henry VIII. were repealed, the statutes passed
against heretics in the reigns of Henry IV. and Henry V. were revived,
and Oxford became the scene of those Protestant martyrdoms which have
left an indelible impression of horror and sympathy in the English
mind. Several victims of Catholic intolerance had already perished at
the stake, when Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer were brought to Oxford
for the purpose of undergoing the solemn farce of an academical trial,
and thus implicating the University in the guilt of their intended
condemnation. At a convocation held in St. Mary’s Church a body of
Oxford doctors was commissioned to dispute against the Protestant
bishops on the Eucharist, in concert with a body of Cambridge doctors
similarly commissioned. The so-called ‘disputation’ took place in the
Divinity School. A day was assigned to each prisoner, the academical
judgment was of course given against them, the judicial sentence soon
followed, and on October 15, 1555, Ridley and Latimer were led out to
be burned in Canditch, opposite Balliol College, where a sermon was
preached before the stake by Dr. Richard Smyth on the text, ‘Though
I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me
nothing.’ Cranmer’s execution was delayed for months, since it required
the sanction of Rome, and his courage, as is well known, gave way
under the fear of death. His recantation came too late to save his
life, yet he was called upon to repeat it in St. Mary’s Church on his
way to his doom. Instead of doing so, he publicly retracted it before
the assembled University, with earnest professions of remorse. He was
not allowed to conclude his address, but hurried off with brutal
eagerness, to give at the stake that marvellous example of heroic
constancy which has atoned for all his past errors in the eyes of
Protestants, and crowned the martyrdoms of the English Reformation.
From that moment the cause of the Catholic reaction was desperate
in the University, no less than in the nation. Queen Mary conferred
upon it many benefits and favours, and won the servile homage of its
official representatives, but she never won the hearts of the students,
and the news of her death was received with no less rejoicing in Oxford
than in other parts of England.
[Sidenote: Visitation and reforms of Cardinal Pole]
In the meantime, however, a fresh Visitation of the University was set
on foot, in 1556, by Cardinal Pole, who, having succeeded Gardiner as
chancellor of Cambridge in the previous year, now succeeded Sir John
Mason, the first lay chancellor of Oxford. He was the last in that
line of cardinals, beginning with Beaufort, who, armed with the title
of _Legatus à latere_, assumed to govern the English Church, as it
had never been governed before, under the direct orders of the Pope.
The Visitors deputed by him proceeded to hunt out certain obnoxious
persons who had not withdrawn from Oxford, to burn all the English
Bibles which they could find in the common market-place, and to purge
the libraries of Protestant books. The Cardinal soon afterwards caused
the University and college statutes to be revised, chiefly for the
purpose of correcting recent innovations. For instance, while Edward
VI.’s commissioners had authorised the use of English in college halls,
Cardinal Pole restored the old rule against speaking any language but
Latin. It was also an avowed object of the revision to restore the
supremacy of Aristotle and the study of scholastic philosophy. These
changes, having scarcely been effected before they were reversed, fill
less space in University annals than an incident of comparatively
trivial importance, which must have outraged the Protestant sympathies
of the Oxford townspeople. The wife of Peter Martyr had been interred
in Christchurch Cathedral, near the relics of St. Frideswide. Pole now
directed the dean, no unwilling agent, to exhume the body and cast it
into unconsecrated ground. The Dean improved upon his instructions by
having it buried under a dunghill, whence it was again disinterred,
mingled with the relics of St. Frideswide, and finally committed to the
grave in the year 1561. No wonder that Queen Mary’s patronage proved
a poor substitute for academical freedom, that learning continued to
decline, that even sermons were rare and ill-attended, that lectures
were almost suspended, that few ‘proceeded’ in any of the faculties,
and that it was thought necessary to reduce the qualification of
standing for the M.A. degree in order to reinforce the University with
Masters.
[Sidenote: Foundation of Trinity and St. John’s Colleges]
Two colleges, it is true, Trinity and St. John’s, owe their origin to
Mary’s reign, and both were founded by Roman Catholics, but upon the
ruins of monastic institutions, and before the Marian persecutions
had borne fruit in the University. These colleges, as semi-Catholic
foundations of the Reformation era, may fitly be regarded as forming
landmarks between mediæval and modern Oxford.
CHAPTER VIII.
REIGN OF ELIZABETH AND CHANCELLORSHIP OF LEICESTER.
[Sidenote: Visitation under Elizabeth and policy of Archbishop Parker]
With the accession of Elizabeth, in November 1558, the scenes were
rapidly shifted, and the parts of the chief actors strangely reversed.
For a while, in the quaint language of Anthony Wood, ‘two religions
being now as ’twere on foot, divers of the chiefest of the University
retired and absented themselves till they saw how affairs would
proceed.’ They had not long to wait. Though she received graciously
a deputation from the University, headed by Dr. Tresham, canon of
Christchurch, and Dr. Raynolds, Warden of Merton, the Queen lost
no time in announcing that she intended to visit it, and made a
suspensory order in regard to all academical elections. In June she
nominated a body of Visitors to ‘make a mild and gentle, not rigorous,
reformation.’ One of these Visitors was Bishop Cox, of Ely, who had
acted in a similar capacity under Edward VI., and the Visitation
was conducted on much the same principles, except that it was less
destructive. Still, compliance with the Act of Supremacy just passed
was strictly enforced, and nine Heads of colleges, as well as the Dean
and two canons of Christchurch, proving recusants, were ejected or
forced to resign. Among these were Raynolds and Tresham, the former of
whom died in prison. A considerable number of fellows are mentioned
as having been expelled for refusing the oath, but the majority
conformed. Some Protestant exiles returned from Zurich, Strasburg, and
other foreign towns, where they had suffered great privations; but it
is certain that Oxford lost many Catholic scholars whom she could ill
spare, and suffered far more from the Elizabethan proscriptions than
Cambridge, where the Reformation had been more firmly established.
Peter Martyr and Jewell attested the intellectual and moral degeneracy
of the University at the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign, nor could it
have been otherwise after such rapid vicissitudes in religious doctrine
and ecclesiastical government, unsettling the minds of students,
and keeping academical rulers in a constant state of suspense or
time-serving. It is certainly significant that in the very year after
the Act of Uniformity was passed, establishing the revised Common
Prayer-book, the Queen authorised the use of a Latin version thereof in
college chapels in order to promote familiarity with Latin. But it is
probable that this, like other concessions, was also due to a desire,
which she fully shared with Archbishop Parker, to favour the growth of
an Anglo-Catholic instead of a Puritan Church, and to encourage the
Protestants without estranging the Romanists. Meanwhile Sampson, the
dean of Christchurch, and Humphrey, the president of Magdalen, were
zealous promoters of the Puritan movement, and as such distrusted by
the queen, especially as they were known to be in correspondence with
Geneva.
[Sidenote: Chancellorship of Leicester]
In the year 1564 Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, became chancellor
of the University, and continued in office nearly twenty-four years.
With the exception of Sir John Mason, elected in 1552, and the Earl of
Arundel, elected in 1558, he was the first layman who had held this
high office, which, moreover, had always been filled by some resident
member of the University up to the year 1484. Non-resident and courtier
as he was, however, the office was no sinecure in his hands. During his
long tenure of it, his influence made itself felt in every department
of University life, and was mainly exercised in favour of the Puritans.
For this reason, we cannot accept Anthony Wood’s censure of him as that
of an impartial historian, nor can it be denied that he took a genuine
interest in the affairs of the University, and effected some useful
reforms. One valuable concession obtained by the University under his
chancellorship, and probably at his instance, was its incorporation in
1571 by an Act of Parliament, investing the ‘chancellor, masters, and
scholars’ with the rights of perpetual succession, and confirming to it
all the other privileges conferred upon it by previous monarchs. This
parliamentary title relieved it from the necessity of seeking a new
charter from each succeeding king, and is the organic statute by which
its franchises are now secured. In the same year an Act was passed
which, supplemented by further Acts passed five years later, has done
more than any other to save the revenues of colleges from dissipation.
The immense influx of gold from America, lowering the value of money,
had proportionately raised the nominal value of land, and private
landowners were reaping the advantage in sales and leases. The
governing bodies of colleges, in turn, were exacting increased fines on
granting long leases at low rentals, to the injury of their successors.
The Act of 13th Elizabeth checked this practice by enacting that
college leases should be for twenty-one years, or three lives at most,
with a reservation of the customary rent; but means were found to evade
the Act, and it was necessary to make it more stringent. This was
done by Acts of 18th Elizabeth, the more important of which, ‘for the
maintenance of colleges,’ is sometimes attributed to the foresight of
Sir Thomas Smith, and sometimes to that of Lord Burghley. It requires
that one-third part at least of the rents to be reserved in college
leases shall be payable in corn or in malt, at 6_s._ 8_d._ per quarter
and 5_s._ per quarter respectively. As prices rose, this one-third
ultimately far outweighed in value the remaining two-thirds, and became
‘a second additional endowment’ to colleges.
[Sidenote: Changes in the government of the University]
Another measure of more doubtful policy was passed by the University
itself under the direct instigation of Leicester. We have seen that
in the later Middle Ages an assembly consisting mainly of resident
teachers, and called the ‘Black Congregation,’ held preliminary
discussions on University business about to come before Convocation.
In the year 1569, the Earl of Leicester procured orders to be framed
by a delegacy and passed into statutes, whereby it was provided
that in future this preliminary deliberation should be conducted by
the Vice-chancellor, Doctors, Heads of Houses, and Proctors. This
change marks a notable step in the growth of the college monopoly
afterwards established, and could hardly have been carried while the
monastic orders were still powerful in Oxford, and a large body of
non-collegiate students were lodged in halls. Nor could the erection
of such a legislative oligarchy, with a virtual power of suppressing
obnoxious motions, be otherwise than unfavourable to freedom of
teaching and government, however congenial to Tudor notions of
academical discipline. Another change made by Leicester in the same
year (1569), though dictated by a like spirit, cannot be regarded as
an innovation, but rather as the restoration of an ancient usage. From
the earliest times Chancellors of the University had been assisted
by deputies, whom they appointed either periodically, or, more
probably, as occasion might require. By the statutes of 1549, issued
by Edward VI.’s Visitors, the right of electing these commissaries,
or ‘vice-chancellors,’ as they came to be called, was vested in the
House of Congregation. The practice of nomination was now resumed by
Leicester, and has been maintained ever since. A somewhat opposite
tendency is to be observed in his abolition of the more orderly but
more exclusive mode of electing proctors, which had grown up in lieu
of the old tumultuous elections by an academical _plébiscite_, when
the proctors represented the ‘nations.’ The nature of this restricted
election, _per instantes_, as Anthony Wood calls it, is by no means
clear; at all events, the unrestricted election was re-established by
Leicester’s influence, and continued to produce the same disorders as
ever, until it was finally reformed in 1629.
[Sidenote: Leicester’s administration of the University]
We have abundant proofs of Leicester’s active, and even meddlesome,
interference with the details of University and college administration.
Sometimes he recommends eminent foreigners for advancement, or
accompanies them on visits to Oxford; sometimes he writes to urge
the duty of encouraging more frequent University sermons; sometimes
he corrects the abuses of disorderly and vituperative preaching by
ordering that no one shall occupy the University pulpit without
undergoing a probation in his own college; sometimes he rebukes the
license of youth in respect of costume; sometimes he superintends
the revision of University statutes by a delegacy mainly composed of
Heads of colleges; nor must we overlook his gift to the University of
a new printing-press. But the most permanent monument of Leicester’s
chancellorship was the new test of subscription to the Thirty-nine
Articles and the Royal Supremacy, to be required from every student
above sixteen years of age on his matriculation. This rule was
doubtless intended only to exclude the Romanising party from the
University; but its ulterior consequences, unforeseen by its author,
were mainly felt by the descendants of the Puritans. Thenceforth the
University of Oxford, once open to all Christendom, was narrowed into
an exclusively Church of England institution, and became the favourite
arena of Anglican controversy, developing more and more that special
character, at once worldly and clerical, which it shares with Cambridge
alone among the Universities of Europe.
The letter, dated 1581, in which Leicester urges Convocation to adopt
this disastrous measure, contains other recommendations directed to
the same end. One of these is a proposal that, in order to prevent
the sons ‘of knowne or suspected Papists’ being sent to Oxford to be
trained by men of the same religion, every tutor should be licensed by
a select board, to consist of the vice-chancellor and six doctors or
bachelors of divinity. A third proposal, of which the cause is not
yet obsolete, was designed to check the conversion of professorships
into sinecures, by providing for the appointment of substitutes
where professors should fail to discharge their duties. All these
regulations, with some others of a salutary kind, were sanctioned by
decrees of Convocation, but it is clear from a vigorous remonstrance of
the Chancellor, addressed to the University in the following year, that
most of them remained a dead letter. This remonstrance deserves to be
read, as illustrating the difference between Leicester in his capacity
of courtier and in his capacity of University Chancellor. The political
and private character of Leicester belong to history, and the verdict
passed upon him is not likely to be reversed; but it is difficult,
after studying this letter, to regard him as animated only by sinister
and frivolous motives in his dealings with the University. On the other
hand, there is clear evidence of wholesale favouritism and jobbery,
as it would now be called, in his dispensation of his own patronage,
and in his repeated and underhand attempts to control the patronage of
colleges. Upon the whole, his administration of the University was less
dishonest and more statesmanlike than might have been expected of so
profligate a politician. It cannot be compared, however, with the wise
administration of Cambridge by the great Burleigh, and the superiority
of the sister-University, both in vital energy and in national esteem,
during the Elizabethan age, was probably due in no small degree to the
superior character of its Chancellor.
[Sidenote: Depression of intellectual life in the University]
Other causes, however, had contributed to depress the intellectual life
of Oxford, and among these we must not omit to notice the withdrawal
of many gifted scholars to seek liberty of conscience at the new
Catholic seminary of Douay, founded in 1568. Leicester’s agents were
constantly on the watch against the reappearance of these ‘seminary
priests’ at Oxford with intent to Romanise the University, and this
perhaps was no imaginary danger; but neither learning nor education
flourished under Oxford Puritanism. Writing in 1589, the year following
Leicester’s death, Whitgift fully confirms his estimate of the laxity
prevailing at Oxford. In this very year an Act was passed to check
the sale or corrupt resignation of fellowships—evils which owed their
origin to the previous Act regulating college leases, and indirectly
encouraging a system of money allowances to fellows, unknown in the
previous century. The rise of grammar schools, one of the earliest and
best fruits of the Reformation, seems rather to have diminished than to
have increased the demand for the higher University culture. Formerly,
when Oxford itself was a vast group of grammar schools, many a boy
who came there to learn grammar remained there to learn philosophy or
law. Now, boys of the same class often got their schooling near home,
and then betook themselves to one of the numerous vocations which
trade and commerce were opening to English youth in that great age of
enterprise and national expansion. Even the literature of Elizabeth’s
reign is courtly and popular rather than academical, and Oxford
contributed little to it. Bacon was a student at Trinity College,
Cambridge; Raleigh at Oriel College; Spenser and other Elizabethan
poets had received an University education; but such men derived
their inspiration from no academical source; their literary powers
were matured in a very different school, and the one of their compeers
whose fame eclipses all the rest, knew Oxford only as a traveller, on
his journeys to Stratford-on-Avon. ‘Home-keeping youths,’ Shakspeare
tells us, ‘have ever homely wits,’ and the saying is characteristic of
an age in which foreign travel often supplied the place of University
education.
[Sidenote: Encouragement of study by Elizabeth, and foundation of the
Bodleian Library]
It was not until the later part of her reign that Queen Elizabeth
actively patronised Oxford culture, and desired of the Chancellors of
both the Universities that promising scholars might be recommended
to her for promotion in Church and State. The stimulating effect of
such patronage upon University studies very soon made itself felt at
Oxford, and men like Sir Henry Savile were the direct product of it.
A still more important recipient of Elizabeth’s favour was Sir Thos.
Bodley, student of Magdalen and fellow of Merton, who, having been a
member of the Queen’s household, was afterwards employed by her on
missions to Germany, France, and Belgium. Among the many benefactors
of the University his name still ranks first and highest. In boyhood
he seems to have imbibed the literary spirit of the Renaissance under
foreign instructors at Geneva, whither his family had fled to avoid the
Marian persecution; at Merton he was one of the earliest readers in
Greek, and his long residence abroad in middle life had quickened his
scholarlike tastes. At last, at the age of fifty-three, he deliberately
took leave of State employments, ‘set up his staff at the library door’
in Oxford, and devoted himself for the remaining fifteen years of his
life to reconstructing and enriching the library of Duke Humphrey. In
1602, this building, renovated and enlarged, was opened with a solemn
procession from St. Mary’s Church, and dedicated to the use of the
University. The whole design was not completed until after his death;
but the plan of it was fully matured, with the aid of Sir Henry Savile,
by the founder, who drew the statutes with his own hand and collected
some 2,000 volumes before the opening day. This noble gift excited
the emulation of other donors, and probably did more than any Court
patronage to promote learning in the University.
[Sidenote: Increasing refinement of academical life]
During the last seventeen years of the great Queen’s reign the history
of Oxford was unruffled by stirring events. That Leicester’s constant
remonstrances against idleness, sinecurism, and extravagance had not
been capricious or unfounded, is proved by the fact of their being
repeated and enforced again and again by his three successors. It
was, indeed, the misfortune of the University that it was roused from
the lethargy which oppressed it after the Catholic reaction, only to
become the battle-ground of the Romanising and Puritan factions in the
Anglican Church. While its highest dignitaries were mostly animated by
intense party spirit rather than by zeal for education, its students
fully shared in the genial laxity of manners, fostered by increasing
luxury, which marked the Elizabethan age. Their numbers were increased,
but the new recruits were drawn from a wealthier class; there were
more young gentlemen among them, but fewer hardworking scholars; more
of worldly accomplishments, but less of severe and earnest study. Many
of them were destined for lay professions or even for trade, and many
tutors were now laymen, yet it may be doubted whether there was as much
real freedom of thought in the Protestant Oxford of Elizabeth as in
the Catholic Oxford of the first three Edwards. The academical system
was narrower in principle than in mediæval times, and the University
had become a mere aggregate of colleges and privileged halls. On the
other hand, these collegiate bodies were far more orderly and refined
societies, and learned foreigners, of whom many found a welcome there,
were impressed with the comfort and dignity of social life at Oxford,
as compared with that of continental Universities. One of these,
Albericus Gentilis, became Regius Professor of Civil Law, and for a
while revived the waning interest of that subject, which the combined
jealousy of the clergy and common lawyers had long discouraged as a
branch of academical study.
[Sidenote: Queen Elizabeth’s two visits to Oxford]
Queen Elizabeth twice visited Oxford in state, once during her
‘progress’ in 1566, and again in 1592. On the first occasion she was
accompanied by Leicester as Chancellor, and by Cecil as Secretary of
State. She was hailed with effusive loyalty, and entertained for six
days with an incessant round of festivities, orations, disputations,
and Latin plays, which she bore with truly royal patience, winning
universal homage by ‘her sweet, affable, and noble carriage,’ but
frowning gently on divines of the Puritanical and Romanising parties,
while she reserved her most winning smiles for the young students
who amused her with their boyish repartees, sometimes expressed in
Latin. It was not until twenty-six years later that she revisited the
University, a prematurely old woman, but still accompanied by Cecil,
now Lord Burleigh, stayed for the same period, and went through a
repetition of the same ceremonials. This reception lacked the freshness
of the former one, yet enabled the Queen to show that she had not
forgotten either her Latinity or her academical sympathies. According
to Anthony Wood, it was one of her objects ‘to behold the change and
amendment of learning and manners that had been in her long absence
made.’ It does not appear how far she was satisfied in this respect,
but her Latin speech to the Heads of Houses certainly abounds in
excellent advice and professions of warm interest in the welfare of the
University. As before, she rallied the ‘precisians,’ as they were then
called, on their over-zeal for Protestantism, counselling all to study
moderation and rest content with obeying the law, instead of seeking to
be in advance of it.
[Sidenote: Pestilences and disturbances in the sixteenth century]
It is remarkable how often the town of Oxford was scourged with
pestilence during the Tudor period, and this cause had perhaps as much
effect in repelling students as the unsettled state of ecclesiastical
affairs. To check one fertile source of infection, an order was
addressed by the Privy Council to the vice-chancellor and Heads of
colleges, in 1593, forbidding the performance of plays or interludes in
Oxford or within five miles thereof, since the physicians had connected
the plague of that year with the immense influx of players and vagrants
from London into Oxford about the Act-time. The order further directed
the University authorities to concert measures with the mayor for the
prevention of overcrowding; and these precautions were apparently
successful, for the plague did not reappear in Oxford until 1603, when
it was brought thither from London shortly after the accession of James
I.
Scarcely less fatal to academical repose and earnest study were
the violent conflicts and riots, inherited from the Middle Ages,
which constantly recurred throughout the sixteenth century. Some of
these arose out of the old traditional feud between the northern
and southern nations, but that feud had well-nigh died out under
Leicester’s chancellorship, and does not seem to have influenced the
keenly contested election of proctors in 1594, though we hear of a
fray provoked by ‘the troublesome Welsh’ in 1587. The contest for the
chancellorship which took place on Leicester’s death was, in the main,
one between Puritans and Episcopalians, and the election of Hatton
against Essex was a victory for the Church of England as established
by the moderate policy of Elizabeth. Henceforth Oxford became the
stronghold of Anglicanism, and the internal contests which divided the
University were essentially contests between rival Church parties.
Meanwhile, there was little abatement of the pettier, but still more
inveterate, jealousy between the city and the University. Year after
year this incurable enmity broke forth afresh in some new form, and
the law courts, as well as the Chancellor, were frequently engaged in
vain attempts to keep the peace between bodies equally concerned in
the prosperity of Oxford. A temporary abatement of these disturbances
was obtained, in 1581, by the fresh imposition of an oath to be
taken by the city sheriff, on his election, binding him to uphold
the privileges of the University; but the feud was not to be thus
healed. If we duly measure the distraction of energy which must have
resulted from such perpetual disorders, and, far more, from the fierce
religious animosities which long convulsed Oxford and plunged other
countries into civil war—not forgetting the constant interruption of
academical residence by plague—we shall be more disposed to marvel at
the intrinsic vitality of the University than at the many shortcomings
imputed to it, when the death of the great Queen ushered in a new and
eventful period in its history.
CHAPTER IX.
THE UNIVERSITY UNDER JAMES I.
[Sidenote: The University patronised by James I.]
The influence acquired by the University of Oxford, as a power in the
State, under the Tudor dynasty, was fully maintained by it under the
Stuarts. If it had played a humbler part in the earlier stages of the
Reformation than in the intellectual movement of the Renaissance, and
if for a while the Protestant episcopate had been mainly recruited
from Cambridge, it was nevertheless destined to bear the brunt of
those storms which, already gathering in the last years of Elizabeth,
burst over Church and State in the first half of the seventeenth
century. Before the accession of James I., while Church-government
had been firmly settled on an Episcopalian basis, there was room
for much latitude of opinion within the National Church, and the
religious sentiment of the English people was strongly Puritan.
This dualism was faithfully reflected in the University, where the
Act of Uniformity was strictly enforced, and there was a growing
preponderance of academical authority on the side of the High Church
party, yet several Regius Professors of Divinity in succession were of
the Puritan school, and a deep undercurrent of Puritanism manifested
itself again and again among the more earnest college tutors and
students. The vigorous protest of the University against the famous
Millenary petition was dictated not so much by distrust of its Puritan
authorship and tone, as by hostility to its proposals for reducing
the value of impropriations in the hands of colleges. Little as he
understood the English nation, James I. was not slow to appreciate
the advantage of gaining a hold upon the Universities, hastened to
show a personal interest in them, and expressed a wish to be consulted
about all academical affairs of importance. In the very year of his
accession, he granted letters patent to both Universities, commanding
each of them to choose two grave and learned men, professing the civil
law, to serve as burgesses in the House of Commons. Though he was
prevented by the plague from visiting Oxford in that year, he came to
Woodstock in the autumn and received the University authorities. Two
years later, in 1605, he entered Oxford on horseback, surrounded by
an imposing cavalcade of nobles and courtiers, to be received, like
Elizabeth, with costly banquets and pompous disputations, to which, on
this occasion, was added a grand musical service in the cathedral. The
pedantic self-complacency of James enabled him to enjoy in the highest
degree all the frivolous solemnities of this academic ceremonial, of
which a full account has been preserved in the ‘Rex Platonicus’ of the
Public Orator, Sir Isaac Wake. It is remarkable that Anthony Wood dates
the progress of luxury, with drinking in taverns and other disorders,
from the festivities lavished on this visit. The king gave a further
proof of his confidence in Oxford, by entering his son Prince Henry, a
youth of great promise, who died prematurely in 1612, as a student at
Magdalen College.
[Sidenote: James I.’s attitude towards the University and the Church]
Whatever may be thought of James I.’s character, it is certain that he
was animated by a generous partiality for the Universities, not only as
bulwarks of his throne but as seats of learning. It is equally certain
that he entered upon his reign with serious and practical intentions
of Church reform. Accordingly, in 1603, he addressed letters to the
Chancellors of Oxford and Cambridge, pointing out the evils and abuses
resulting from the wholesale diversion of Church revenues, by means of
impropriation, to private aggrandisement. He declared himself ready to
sacrifice all the patronage which had thus devolved upon the Crown,
and called upon the colleges to imitate his example by re-endowing
their benefices with tithes for the support of efficient ministers. He
was dissuaded from carrying out his purpose by the remonstrances of
Archbishop Whitgift and others, but in 1606, after the discovery of
the Gunpowder Plot, the Universities received a valuable gift in the
right of presenting to all benefices in the hands of Roman Catholic
patrons, the southern counties being assigned to Oxford, the northern
to Cambridge. They were also formally exempted from liability to
subsidies on three separate occasions. In such proofs of partiality for
the Universities James was but following out the policy of Elizabeth,
who had clearly grasped the expediency of controlling and conciliating
the great seminaries in which the national clergy were educated. At
first his native Calvinism inclined him to favour the Puritans, whose
influence in the University had been greatly strengthened by the
example and teaching of the admirable Laurence Humphrey, President of
Magdalen, and Regius Professor of Divinity, who died in 1589. But he
gradually discovered the natural affinity between Arminian theories
of Church authority and his own theories of kingcraft, as well as the
preponderance of the former in the clerical order, and decisively cast
in his lot with the High Church party. In the grand struggle between
the ecclesiastical courts and the common law judges, the Universities
with the great body of the clergy supported the King and the archbishop
in sustaining the authority of the former. They were again associated
with the King when he conferred a lasting benefit on the English Church
and nation by initiating the Authorised Version of the Bible. In this
great work the two Universities were represented almost equally, and
among the Oxford scholars engaged in it we find seven Heads of colleges
and four other divines, who afterwards became bishops. There is some
reason, however, to believe that he cherished a preference for the
sister University, and it is a somewhat remarkable fact that George
Carleton, afterward bishop of Chichester, was the only Oxford man among
the five academical divines selected by him to represent England at the
Synod of Dort.
[Sidenote: Rise and influence of Laud]
In the year 1603, we first hear of ‘Mr. William Laud, B.D. of St.
John’s College,’ as proctor; in 1606 he again comes under notice, as
preaching in St. Mary’s Church, and ‘letting fall divers passages
savouring of popery,’ which brought him under the censure of the
vice-chancellor. Thenceforth he became a formidable power, and
ultimately the ruling spirit in the University, the discipline of which
he persistently laboured to reform. The eighteen years which elapsed
between his proctorship and his retirement from the presidency of St.
John’s, in 1621, were crowded with events memorable in the history
of the English Church. The failure of the Hampton Court Conference,
in 1604, drove the Puritan party, at last, into active opposition.
The canons enacted in the Convocation of the same year compelled
the clergy to subscribe the Three Articles which the Parliament of
1571 had expressly refused to impose upon them; and the immediate
consequence was the deprivation of three hundred clergymen. In 1606,
the severity of the laws against Popish recusants was increased, and
the arbitrary jurisdiction of the High Commission was constantly
extended until it was openly challenged by the common law judges.
The responsibility of supporting the king in this aggression on the
Constitution rests, in part, on Abbot, formerly Master of University
College, whom the Calvinistic party at Oxford had regarded as
their protector against Laud and his associates, but who, after
succeeding Bancroft as archbishop in 1610, strained the powers of
the High Commission almost as far as Bancroft himself. There was no
such inconsistency in Laud, who, from the first, deliberately set
himself to undo the work of Leicester as Chancellor, and Humphrey as
professor of divinity at Oxford. An appeal was lodged against him
by the opposite party when he was elected President of St. John’s
in 1611, but the election was confirmed. It was he who procured the
publication, in 1616, of a stringent order from the king, by the
advice of the clergy in convention, for the subscription of the Three
Articles in the Thirty-sixth Canon by every candidate for a degree,
for strict attendance on University sermons, and for the enforcement
of other safeguards against heterodoxy. This was not the first time
that the Convocation of the clergy had presumed to meddle with the
government of the University, for another canon, passed in 1604, had
required surplices to be worn in college chapels. But, of course,
such decrees could only be enforced by the action of the Crown, the
validity of whose jurisdiction over the Universities was, in itself,
somewhat doubtful. In this case, the authority of the Chancellor, the
Earl of Pembroke, was employed to obtain compliance with the order
which, though resented by many, was obeyed. In 1622, the University
Convocation gave a further proof of obsequious loyalty, not only by
publicly burning the works of Paræus, in deference to a mandate of the
Privy Council, but also by passing a declaratory resolution absolutely
condemning resistance to a reigning sovereign, offensive or defensive,
upon any pretext whatever. This solemn affirmation of the doctrine of
passive obedience was the more significant and ignoble, because it
came but a few months after the Commons had recorded a solemn protest
against the violation of their liberties, and the king had torn it out
of their Journal with his own hand. The progress of Arminianism in
the Church and University kept pace with that of personal government
in the State. It was in 1622 that Coke, Pym, Selden, and others were
imprisoned for disputing the royal prerogative, and from this year
Anthony Wood dates ‘such an alteration in the University, that the
name of Calvin (which had carried all before it) began to lessen by
degrees.’ In the great crisis of the next reign it was found that
Oxford Puritanism was by no means extinct, but the reactionary creed
of Laud had almost exclusive possession of the University pulpit, and
soon become dominant. This new faith, half political, half theological,
and affirming at once the divine right of kings and the divine right
of bishops, found partial expression in James’s own maxim—‘No bishop,
no king.’ Absolutism allied itself naturally with the doctrinal system
of Arminianism; the creed of Laud, embraced long ago by the fatuous
King and the Court, had already been adopted deliberately by Prince
Charles; it was now to become the official creed of Oxford for nearly
two generations.
[Sidenote: Completion of the ‘Schools,’ and foundation of Wadham and
Pembroke Colleges]
During the whole reign of James I. the external condition of the
University was prosperous, and it received important accessions, both
in buildings and endowments. On March 30, 1619, the day following
the burial of Sir Thomas Bodley in Merton College Chapel, the first
stone of the New Schools, as they were then called, was laid by his
coadjutor, Sir John Bennett. Two colleges, Wadham and Pembroke, owe
their origin to the same period. The former was founded in 1610 by
Dorothea, widow of Nicholas Wadham, under a royal licence; the latter
was founded in 1624 by James I. himself, but endowed at the cost and
charges of Thomas Tesdale and Richard Wightwick. No less than six
professorships were instituted during the same period. The first two
of these—the professorships of geometry and astronomy—bear the name of
their founder, Sir Henry Savile, warden of Merton College, who endowed
them in 1619. In the quaint language of Anthony Wood: ‘Beholding the
Mathematick Studies to be neglected by the generality of men, ’twas
now his desire to recover them, least they should utterly sink into
oblivion.’ These benefactions, and the growing wealth of colleges,
helped to strengthen the University in the esteem of the upper classes,
upon which it now depended for its supply of students. According to
a census taken in 1611, the number of residents was 2,420, and it
continued to increase until the outbreak of the Civil War.
CHAPTER X.
THE UNIVERSITY UNDER CHARLES I. AND LAUD.
[Sidenote: Parliament at Oxford]
The death of James I. and the succession of Charles I. produced no
break in the continuity either of national or of academical history.
With less shrewdness than his father, but more of dignity in his
character and bearing, Charles possessed equal obstinacy, and equally
regarded it as his mission to curtail the liberties of his people, in
the interests of the Crown, by the aid of the new State Church. The
profligate and unscrupulous Buckingham retained all his ascendency,
and was Charles’s trusted confidant in politics. Abbot was still
Archbishop of Canterbury, and crowned the young King in Westminster
Abbey, while Laud officiated as Dean of Westminster. But Laud was
Charles’s real adviser in Church affairs, and his evil counsels soon
brought about the disgrace of his rival, Abbot, when the archbishop,
reverting to his earlier principles, boldly opposed the arbitrary and
oppressive policy of the Court. Though he was no longer president of
St. John’s College, his influence over the academical body was never
relaxed, and was constantly exercised on behalf of Arminianism in the
Church, and absolutism in the State. It was some time, however, before
the University was directly affected by the storms which clouded the
political horizon from the very beginning of Charles’s reign. His first
Parliament, it is true, was adjourned to Oxford in the Long Vacation
of 1625, on account of the plague then raging in London, and all
the colleges and halls were cleared, by order of the Privy Council,
for the reception of the members. The Privy Council itself met at
Christchurch, the House of Commons sat in the divinity school, and the
Lords ‘in the north part of the picture gallery,’ but the Parliament,
having refused to grant supplies, was dissolved within a fortnight.
The plague, however, had followed it to Oxford, and the commencement
of Michaelmas term had to be postponed until November 9. In 1628 the
election of proctors was attended with more than ordinary tumult; the
Chancellor intervened, and ultimately the King took the matter into his
own hands, referring the decision of it to a committee, including Laud,
who practically dictated their nominees to the University Convocation.
In February 1629, the House of Commons, which had obtained the King’s
assent to the Petition of Right, took upon itself, by a letter from the
Speaker, to call for a return of all persons known to have contravened
the Articles of Religion. The proctors so far recognised the validity
of the order as to institute an inquiry, but Parliament was prorogued
not long afterwards, and the question seems to have dropped. The
incident, however, is not without its importance, as indicating the
disposition of Parliament, now roused into active opposition, to share
with the Crown the control of the University. On August 27 in the same
year, Charles I., during his stay at Woodstock, paid his first state
visit to Oxford, and was entertained with his queen in Merton College,
where she was destined to be lodged so long during the Civil War,
of which the premonitory signs were already visible to far-sighted
observers.
[Sidenote: Chancellorship of Laud]
In April 1630, the Earl of Pembroke died, and Laud, now bishop of
London, was elected Chancellor of the University by a very narrow
majority over Philip, Earl of Montgomery, Pembroke’s younger brother.
His chancellorship lasted eleven years, and was terminated by his
resignation in 1641. However narrow may have been his Church policy,
he was a true and loyal son of the University, by which he deserves to
be remembered as an earnest reformer and liberal benefactor. It was
at his instance that in 1629, the year before he became Chancellor,
a final end was put to the riotous election of proctors which had so
often disgraced the University for centuries. This was effected by the
simple device of constructing a cycle, extending over twenty-three
years, within which period a certain number of turns was assigned to
each college, according to its size and dignity. The inventor of this
cycle was Peter Turner, of Merton, a great mathematician in his day,
and it fulfilled its object by entrusting the nomination of proctors to
individual colleges, each of which could exercise a deliberate choice,
instead of leaving it to be fought out by the academical democracy.
This salutary change was accepted by the University Convocation on
the recommendation of the king and the Earl of Pembroke, but its real
originator was Laud. His efforts to reform the discipline and morals
of the University were equally well meant, though conceived in an
almost Puritanical spirit which might have won the approval of the
‘Precisians,’ who hated him so bitterly, and not without good cause.
These efforts extended to the colleges of which he was Visitor, and
were carried to the length of minutely regulating every detail of
University life. Attendance at sermons and services, the conduct of
disputations in theology and arts, the relations between Masters of
Arts and Bachelors or students, the forms and fashions of academical
costume, the proper length of scholars’ hair, the hours of meals, the
custody of college gates, the presentation to college benefices, the
management of college property, the use of Latin in conversation as
well as formal business, the enforcement of purity in elections to
fellowships—such are some of the academical concerns which received
from Laud as careful attention as the highest interests of the Church
and the monarchy. In one respect, indeed, the policy of Laud strongly
resembled that of Leicester, for both maintained their influence by
favouritism, and kept up a regular correspondence with confidential
agents at Oxford, through whom they were informed of everything
that passed there. But while Leicester’s inquisitorial vigilance was
directed not only against disturbers of the peace but against persons
suspected of Romanism, that of Laud was directed against Puritans and
Calvinists.
[Sidenote: Compilation of Laudian Statutes]
The greatest and most permanent result of Laud’s chancellorship
was the compilation of the famous code, known as the ‘Laudian’ or
‘Caroline’ Statutes, which continued to govern the University for more
than two centuries. From time immemorial, the University had claimed
and exercised the power of making, repealing, and revising its own
statutes. Under the chancellorship of Archbishop Warham, in 1513, this
power had been delegated to a committee of seven, and again, in 1518,
it was delegated to Cardinal Wolsey, in spite of the Chancellor’s
protest; but in both cases, it was the University Congregation which
conferred the commission, under which, however, very little seems
to have been done. The commissioners of Edward VI. were appointed
under the Great Seal, and drew up the ‘Edwardine Statutes,’ by virtue
of an authority independent of the University. Cardinal Pole, on
the contrary, issued his Ordinances, in his capacity of Chancellor,
provisionally only, until a delegacy of Convocation should decide upon
the necessary alterations. Similar delegacies were appointed by the
authority of Convocation, as it was then called, on several occasions
during the reign of Elizabeth; and though in the reigns of her two
successors many ordinances were sent down by the Crown, they were
not accepted as operative until they had been embodied in statutes,
or adopted in express terms by Convocation. Even in 1628, when the
proctors had endeavoured to obstruct the proposed statutes regulating
proctorial elections, and the king threatened with his condign
displeasure those who should persist in opposing them, Convocation went
through the form of enacting them by its own decree. The same course
was taken in 1629, under Lord Pembroke’s chancellorship, but at Laud’s
instigation, when the delegacy was nominated to codify the statutes,
which then lay, as Laud said, ‘in a miserable confused heap.’ The
work occupied four years, and, when it was completed, the University
placed the new code in the hands of Laud, with full power to make
additions or alterations. He corrected the draught, and in July 1634
directed a copy to be deposited in each college or hall for a year,
during which amendments might be suggested. At last, in June 1636,
Laud finally promulgated, and the King solemnly confirmed, the ‘Corpus
Statutorum,’ as they were officially designated, and the University
Convocation formally accepted them, with the most fulsome professions
of gratitude to its Chancellor, and of confidence in the eternity of
their own legislation. This confidence was not, and could not be,
justified by events; but an impression long prevailed that the Laudian
statutes, though capable of extension, were as incapable of alteration
as the laws of the Medes and Persians. It is, indeed, very remarkable
that, with a few trifling additions, these statutes proved capable of
being worked practically until they were superseded, in many essential
particulars, by the University Reform Act of 1854.
[Sidenote: Main provisions of the Laudian Statutes]
These statutes were for the most part, a digest of those already in
force, but embodied also new regulations of great importance, such
as those for the government of the University by the ‘Hebdomadal
Board,’ for the election of proctors according to the cycle recently
established, for the nomination of ‘collectors’ (to preside over
‘determinations’), and for the conduct of public examinations. The
principle of placing the main control of academical affairs in the
hands of heads of colleges and halls had already been established
by Leicester, but it was now reduced to a fundamental law, and the
vice-chancellor, with the Heads of Houses and proctors, was formally
entrusted with the whole administration of the University. This statute
effectually stereotyped the administrative monopoly of the colleges,
and destroyed all trace of the old democratic constitution which had
been controlled only by the authority of the mediæval Church. The same
oligarchical tendency may be discerned in the statute which converted
the popular and public election of proctors by the common suffrages of
all the Masters into a private election by the Doctors and Masters of
a certain standing in each college, however beneficial its effect may
have been in checking the abuses of tumultuous canvassing. While the
dignity of the procuratorial office was thus sensibly reduced, that of
the vice-chancellor’s office was proportionably enhanced. The Laudian
Code legalised the practice resumed by Leicester, directing that the
vice-chancellor should be nominated annually from the heads of colleges
by the Chancellor, with the assent of Convocation. As vicegerent of the
Chancellor, and chairman of the Hebdomadal Board, he gradually acquired
a position of greater authority and independence than had formerly
belonged to him. Under Laud’s chancellorship, indeed, he was expected
to make a weekly report to his chief on the state of the University;
but later Chancellors were neither so conscientious nor so meddlesome,
and, in default of urgent necessity for their intervention, were at
last content to be regarded as ornamental personages, rather than as
the actual rulers of the University. One of the vice-chancellor’s chief
duties at this period was to guard the orthodoxy of the University
pulpit, and there are numerous instances of preachers being summoned
before him for controverting Arminian doctrines, and forced to sign
humble recantations of their errors. Where they proved refractory, the
royal prerogative was promptly invoked to coerce them.
[Sidenote: Studies and examinations under the Laudian Statutes]
The course of study, and standard of examination, prescribed by
the Laudian statutes were so much beyond the requirements of later
times that we may well doubt whether either can have been strictly
enforced. The B.A. degree, which then concluded the first stage of
an academical career, might be taken at the end of the fourth year,
and the student was bound to have attended lectures in grammar,
rhetoric, the Ethics, Politics, and Economics of Aristotle, logic,
moral philosophy, geometry, and Greek. In order to attain the M.A.
degree, three more years were to be spent in studying geometry,
astronomy, metaphysics, natural philosophy, Greek, and Hebrew. Making
every allowance for the longer residence of those days, as well as for
the lower conception of proficiency in these subjects, we cannot but
admire the comprehensive range of this curriculum, and admit that if
it was actually accomplished by a majority of students, the race of
passmen in the seventeenth century must have been cast in an heroic
mould. Disputations, which had long fallen into discredit, were now
superseded by a system of public examinations, the germs of which are
to be found in an obsolete statute of 1588, if not in the earlier
statutes of Edward VI. The examinations for the B.A. and M.A. degrees,
respectively, were to be in the subjects in which the candidates were
statutably bound to have previously heard lectures, and special regard
was to be paid to fluency in Latin, but they can scarcely have been
effective according to modern ideas. They were to be conducted, in
rotation, by all the regent masters, under the orders of the senior
proctor; the method of interrogation seems to have been exclusively
oral; and the authority of Aristotle was to be paramount within the
whole sphere of his voluminous writings. As the ordinary period of
residence waxed shorter, and the University relaxed its authority over
its own teachers, the examination system of Laud, though it nominally
survived for more than a century and a half, became almost as illusory
as the old scholastic disputations.
[Sidenote: Services of Laud to the University]
The effusive gratitude manifested by the University towards Laud, on
the publication of his ‘Caroline’ statutes, was partly, no doubt,
the expression of party spirit, but it was also justified by his
great services. He presented to the Library a splendid collection of
Oriental manuscripts, besides procuring valuable gifts of literary
treasures from others; he founded and endowed the professorship of
Arabic; he persuaded the King to annex canonries of Christchurch to
the professorship of Hebrew and the office of Public Orator—which
last grant was never confirmed by Parliament; he obtained for the
University the right of printing Bibles, hitherto the monopoly of the
King’s printers; and he secured for it a new charter extending all
its ancient liberties and privileges. Two important acquisitions made
by the University under the chancellorship of Laud are not known to
have been specially due to his initiative. The earlier of these was
the foundation of the Botanic Gardens in 1632, though its completion
was delayed by the Civil War. The Convocation House, adjoining the
Divinity School, was begun in 1634 and finished in 1638, with an
extension of the Bodleian Library above it, and the _apodyterium_ at
its north end, where the Chancellor’s Court is still held. It was
first used in October 1638. By this time, if we may trust Anthony
Wood, the University had recovered its popularity, and numbered at
least 4,000 scholars. No wonder that loyal sons of Oxford looked back
with fond regret to Laud’s chancellorship during the evil days of the
Civil War and the Commonwealth. Nor should it be forgotten that if his
intolerance of schism made him a persecutor of the Puritans, he also
set himself to exclude Romish priests from the University; or that he
reconverted Chillingworth to Anglicanism, and rewarded with a canonry
the learning of John Hales, whose views of Church government conflicted
greatly with his own.
[Sidenote: Last five years of Laud’s chancellorship]
Though Laud continued to preside over the University until 1641, the
glory of his chancellorship was crowned by a solemn visit of the King
and Queen to Oxford at the end of August 1636. This visit lasted
three days, and was attended by all the usual ceremonials, including
the performance of comedies at Christchurch, and St. John’s, Laud’s
own college. The Elector Palatine and his brother, the famous Prince
Rupert, received honorary M.A. degrees on this occasion. After this
it may well be imagined that Laud had little or no leisure for
academical cares until his resignation of the chancellorship by a
pathetic letter dated from the Tower on June 26, 1641. Within this
interval of five years, the great controversy about the payment of
ship-money had come to a head; judgment had been given against John
Hampden; Prynne, Burton, and Eastwick had been condemned to the pillory
for their writings; Charles’s fourth Parliament had met after eleven
years of personal government and been promptly dissolved; the Scotch
army, after halting on the border in 1639, had invaded Yorkshire in
1640; the High Commission Court had been closed for ever; the Long
Parliament had commenced its sittings, and impeached both Strafford
and Laud; the Triennial Act had been passed; the bishops had been
excluded from the House of Lords; the King had agreed that Parliament
should not be adjourned or dissolved without its own consent; Strafford
had been executed; and the ‘Root and Branch Bill’ for the abolition
of Episcopacy had been read in the Commons. Nevertheless, Laud had
found time for close and constant attention to University and college
business. It was in 1638 that he instituted a regular examination
for the B.A. and M.A. degrees. In 1639, he sent another donation of
books, gave stringent directions for the repression of disorders in
the Convocation House, and made special efforts to put down drinking
parties in colleges and halls, which had come into vogue, since
‘the scholars (not excepting the seniors) had been hunted out of
alehouses and taverns by the vice-chancellor and proctors constant
walking’—a result of his own disciplinary vigour. In November 1640,
he sent his last present of books, pleading a want of leisure, for
the first time, in excuse for the brevity of his letter. He was now
in the hands of his enemies, and it was freely alleged in the House
of Commons that, through his influence, the University was infected
with Popery. Accordingly, on December 14, a statement was drawn up and
signed by all the Heads of Houses, except Rogers, Principal of New Inn
Hall, declaring ‘that they knew not any one member of this University
guilty of, or addicted to, Popery.’ Parliament, however, ordered the
books and registers of the University to be sent up to London, with a
view of extracting materials from the Acts of Convocation to serve as
evidence against Laud. Among the offences imputed to him at his trial,
several related specially to his administration of the University. He
was accused of causing old crucifixes to be repaired and new ones to
be set up; of turning Communion tables ‘altarwise,’ railing them in,
and enjoining that obeisance should be made to them; of encouraging
the use of copes; of instituting Latin prayers in Lent; of introducing
superstitious processions; above all, of erecting ‘a very scandalous
statue of the Virgin Mary, with Christ in her arms,’ over the new porch
of St. Mary’s Church. Some of these alleged acts were denied by the
archbishop; others were admitted and defended as consistent with the
received doctrine of the Church. Perhaps none of them would be regarded
by an impartial critic of Laud’s trial as heinous enough to sustain a
charge of high treason, or, indeed, as having any bearing whatever on
such a charge.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: 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.’
[Sidenote: 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.
[Sidenote: Contribution for the King’s service, and first occupation of
Oxford by Parliamentary troops]
In the summer of 1642, war, though not actually declared, was felt
to be inevitable, and both the king and the Parliament were already
raising supplies for the autumn campaign. On July 7, Charles I., then
at York, addressed a requisition to Prideaux, as vice-chancellor,
inviting the colleges to contribute money for his service by way
of loan at eight per cent. interest, alleging that similar aid had
already been received by his enemies. Convocation immediately voted
away all the reserve funds in Savile’s, Bodley’s, and the University
chest, but it does not appear that any contributions of plate were
made by the colleges on this occasion. On July 12, Parliament issued
an order declaring this requisition illegal, and directing watch and
guard to be set on all highways about Oxford; but it appears from
a letter of the king, dated from Beverley on July 18, that a large
subsidy had then reached him. At the same time, he addressed letters
to the Commissioners of Array for the county, the high sheriff,
and the mayor of Oxford, specially requesting them to protect the
University in case of attack. In the middle of August several hundred
graduates and students enrolled themselves, in accordance with a
royal proclamation, and were regularly drilled in the ‘New Park.’ On
August 28, a troop of Royalist horse, under Sir John Byron, entered
the city, and the volunteers were virtually placed under his orders,
with the apparent consent of the citizens, who, however, did not raise
a similar corps for the defence of their own walls. On September
1, a delegacy of thirty members, including the vice-chancellor and
proctors, and popularly called ‘The Council of War,’ was appointed
for the purpose of arming the scholars and provisioning the Royal
troops. But the resolution of the University was shaken when it was
discovered, on September 9, that the citizens were in communication
with the Parliament, and that a Parliamentary force was about to
move on Oxford from Aylesbury. Indeed, the University went so far as
to despatch emissaries to parley with the Parliamentary commanders
at Aylesbury, who answered them roughly, seized Dr. Pinke, of New
College, the deputy vice-chancellor, and sent him as a prisoner to
London. On the following day Sir John Byron, with his few troopers,
left Oxford to join the king, accompanied by about a hundred scholars,
one of whom, Peter Turner, fell into the hands of the enemy in a
skirmish near Stow-in-the-Wold, and was lodged in Northampton gaol.
On September 12, a body of Parliamentary troops entered the city
from Aylesbury, under Colonel Goodwin, who, with other officers, was
quartered at Merton College, while their horses were turned out in
Christchurch meadow. They were soon followed by Lord Say, the new
Parliamentary lord-lieutenant of Oxfordshire. He proceeded to demolish
the fortifications already begun, and instituted a search for plate
and arms. In fact, however, no college plate was then carried off,
except that of Christchurch and University College, which had been
hidden away. The other colleges, we are told, were spared, ‘upon
condition it should be forthcoming at the Parliament’s appointment, and
not in the least employed against them’—a condition almost impossible
of fulfilment in the event, which actually occurred, of Oxford becoming
the King’s head-quarters. Upon the whole, Lord Say and his men behaved
with great forbearance during this short occupation, which ended on
September 27 or 28. The gownsmen were disarmed, but no injury was done
to buildings or property, beyond some damage to the porch of St. Mary’s
Church and the combustion of ‘divers Popish books and pictures.’
[Sidenote: Oxford becomes the royal head-quarters]
A month later (October 29) Charles I. marched into Oxford by the North
Gate, after the battle of Edgehill, at the head of his army, and
attended by Prince Rupert, Prince Maurice, and his two sons. Even the
mayor and leading citizens welcomed him, while the University received
him with open arms, expressed its devotion in Latin orations, and
showered degrees on the noblemen and courtiers in his train. The king
himself, with the most important personages of his staff, except Rupert
and Maurice, was lodged in Christchurch; the officers were distributed
among other colleges; the soldiers were billeted about the city.
Thenceforward, Oxford became not only the base of operations for the
Royal army, but the chief seat of the royal government. Twenty-seven
pieces of ordnance were driven into the grove of Magdalen College and
ranged there; the citizens were at first disarmed, but a regiment
of city volunteers was afterwards formed, and reviewed together with
a far more trustworthy regiment of University volunteers. A plan of
fortification was prepared by Rallingson, a B.A. of Queen’s College,
and defensive works were constructed all round Oxford under the
directions of engineers. All inmates of colleges, being of military
age, were impressed into labouring personally upon these works for at
least one entire day per week, bringing their own tools with them;
in default of which they were required to pay twelve pence to the
royal treasury. A powder-mill was established at Oseney, and a mint
at New Inn Hall, whence the students had fled, under suspicion of
Roundhead leanings. Thither were removed all the coining machinery and
workmen from the factory which had been established some time before
at Shrewsbury, and the New Inn Hall mint was conducted under the
direction of Thomas Bushell, formerly the manager of the royal mines in
Wales. New College tower and cloisters were converted into an arsenal
for arms, procured by repeated searches, the grammar-school for the
choristers having been removed to a chamber at the east end of the
Hall. The Schools were employed as granaries for the garrison; lectures
and exercises were almost wholly suspended; and in the three years from
1643 to 1646 the annual number of B.A. degrees conferred did not exceed
fifty. Before long, most of the less warlike and loyal fellows and
students retired into the country; those who remained took up arms and
kept guard on the walls; the colleges more and more assumed the aspect
of barracks; and Oxford, no longer a seat of learning, was divided
between the gaieties of a court and the turmoil of a camp.
[Sidenote: Aspect of the University during the queen’s residence]
This transformation was completed in July 1643, when Henrietta Maria
joined the King at Oxford. Charles I. rode out to meet the Queen, whose
passionate and sinister counsels were about to cost him his throne and
his life. She was received with great ceremony at Christchurch, and
conducted by the King himself to Merton College by a back way, made
expressly through gardens belonging to Christchurch and Corpus Christi
College into Merton Grove. There she was saluted with the usual Latin
oration, and took possession of the apartment still known as ‘the
Queen’s room,’ which she occupied, with the adjoining drawing-room,
until the following April. Seldom in history, and never in the annals
of the University, have characters so diverse been grouped together
into so brilliant and picturesque a society as that which thronged
the good city of Oxford during the Queen’s residence in the autumn
and winter of 1643—the last happy interlude of her ill-starred life.
Notwithstanding the paralysis of academical studies, grave dons and
gay young students were still to be seen in the streets, but too often
in no academical garb and affecting the airs of cavaliers, as they
mingled with the ladies of the court in Christchurch walks and Trinity
College gardens, or with roystering troopers in the guard-houses at
Rewley, where they entertained their ruder comrades with flashes
of academic wit. Most of the citizens, too, were glad to remain,
secretly cherishing, perhaps, the hope of a future retribution, but
not unwilling to levy high rents for the lodging of those nobles and
military officers for whom there was no room in the colleges. With
these were blended in strange variety other elements imported from
the metropolis or the country—lawyers who had come down to attend
the courts held by the Lord Keeper and one of his judicial brethren;
the faithful remnant of the Lords and Commons, who sat in one of the
Schools and the Convocation-house respectively, while the University
Acts were performed once more in St. Mary’s Church; loyal gentlemen
driven out of their manor-houses by the enemy; clergymen expelled from
their parsonages; foreigners seeking audiences of the perplexed and
vacillating King; needy poets, musicians, and players in the service
of the Court, who acted interludes or Shakespearian pieces in the
college halls. Services were still performed in the chapels; sermons
were preached from the pulpit of St. Mary’s; degrees were conferred
wholesale, as rewards for loyal service, until they were so depreciated
that at last the King promised to recommend no more candidates for
them; the outward appearances of academical routine were maintained
with decorum; the King dined and supped in public, moving freely among
his devoted adherents with the royal grace and easy dignity which
long seemed to have perished with the Stuarts; the Queen held those
receptions at Merton College of which a tradition has survived to our
own prosaic days; newspapers were published for the first time in
Oxford, and all the resources of courtly literature were employed to
enliven a spectacle over which the awful catastrophe of that historical
tragedy, unforeseen by the actors themselves, has shed a lurid glamour,
never equalled by the romance of fiction.
[Sidenote: The last two years of the civil war]
During this memorable period, the records of the University and
colleges are extremely scanty. The register of Christchurch, then
little more than a royal palace, presents almost a blank; that of
Merton contains few entries bearing on the great events of which Oxford
was the scene or the centre. Early in January 1643, royal letters were
issued to all colleges and halls, desiring the loan of their plate, to
be melted down and coined for the King’s service, ‘we promising you to
see the same justly repayd unto you after the rate of 5/ the ounce for
white, and 5/6 for guilt plate, as soon as God shall enable us.’ All
the colleges, except New Inn Hall, are stated to have complied, and the
aggregate weight of plate thus contributed amounted to some 1,500 lbs.,
besides about 700 lbs. sent in by six country gentlemen. Nevertheless,
in the following June, another levy of 2,000_l._ was made upon the
University and City respectively, to which the City, in an unwonted
fit of loyalty, added another 500_l._ At last, in October 1643, the
Heads of Houses agreed that 40_l._ should be raised weekly during the
next twenty weeks, by a levy on colleges and halls, in lieu of all
further contributions towards new fortifications. In the same month
articles were drawn up by some of the leading residents against the
Earl of Pembroke, Chancellor of Oxford, whom they accused of betraying
the privileges and neglecting the interests of the University, but
whose real crime was complicity with the Parliament, and whom the King
caused to be superseded by the Marquis of Hertford. During the summer
of this year the fortunes of war had, on the whole, been in the King’s
favour; but he had been compelled to abandon his design of occupying
London, and, after the indecisive battle of Newbury, in which Falkland
was killed, had retreated to Oxford for the winter. Thither he summoned
his so-called Parliament in June 1644, and there, yielding to evil
advice from his wife, he rejected overtures which might have brought
about a peaceful settlement without further bloodshed. On May 29, 1644,
a Parliamentary force under the Earl of Essex and Sir William Waller
crossed the river at Sandford Ferry, and passed through Cowley over
Bullingdon Green, on their way from Abingdon to Islip, but nothing
beyond a skirmish took place as they defiled along the heights within
sight of the city. The object of this movement, as soon appeared, was
to enclose the King with his forces in Oxford; but Charles now showed
unexpected resource, and by a masterly night-march eluded the enemy,
and pursued Essex westward, while Prince Rupert defeated Waller at
Copredy Bridge, where many Oxford scholars were engaged. On June 9 a
proclamation of the Privy Council appeared, commanding all persons
to lay in provisions for three months, in anticipation of a siege,
which, however, did not take place in that year. On July 2 the King’s
northern army sustained a crushing defeat at Marston Moor, and the
King himself, though successful against Essex, was almost cut off
on his return to Oxford. On Sunday, October 6, the city of Oxford,
which had been scourged by a plague in the previous year, the natural
result of overcrowding, was ravaged by a great fire, attributed to the
machinations of the Parliamentary troops at Abingdon. The winter passed
quietly at Oxford, and, after the execution of Archbishop Laud in
January 1645, negotiations between the King and Parliament were again
opened at Uxbridge, but in vain. Soon afterwards the Parliamentary army
was remodelled, and placed under the command of Fairfax, who advanced
to besiege Oxford, while Charles, who had retired to Chester, hesitated
between relieving it and giving battle to Cromwell. On May 22, Oxford
was partially invested by Fairfax, and besieged for a fortnight.
Fairfax established his own head-quarters at Headington, Wolvercote
was held by Major Browne, Cromwell was posted at Wytham, and the roads
between that village and South Hincksey were secured by the besiegers.
On June 2, the governor made a successful night sally towards
Headington, and three days later the siege was hastily abandoned, when
Fairfax moved northward to join Cromwell, and on June 14 the Royalist
cause was finally shipwrecked at the battle of Naseby. The theatre of
war was now shifted from the neighbourhood of Oxford, and the last
engagement in the open field took place near Chester in the following
September. Oxford still held out for the King, who again fell back
upon it for the winter, accompanied by Princes Rupert and Maurice, and
gathered around him a great part of the English nobility and gentry
still faithful to his fortunes. On December 28 we find him ordering
special forms of prayer to be used in college chapels on Wednesdays and
Fridays, ‘during these bad times.’
[Sidenote: Siege of Oxford, and proposals of Fairfax guaranteeing
University privileges]
In the spring of 1646, the Parliamentary army devoted itself to
besieging the strong places still occupied by the King’s troops, and on
May 1 Fairfax again appeared before Oxford, which the King had left in
disguise a few days earlier, with only two attendants. The besieging
force was distributed round the north side of the city in the same way
as before, and on May 11 it was formally summoned to surrender. In
the letter of summons, addressed to Sir Thomas Glemham, the governor,
Fairfax used language honourable to himself and to Oxford. ‘I very much
desire the preservation of that place, so famous for learning, from
ruin, which inevitably is like to fall upon it unless you concur.’ More
than one conference was held, and some of the privy councillors in
Oxford strove to protract the negotiations until the King himself could
be consulted. In the end, Fairfax made conciliatory proposals which
the Royalist leaders decided to entertain, ‘submitting,’ as they said,
‘to the fate of the kingdom rather than any way distrusting their own
strength.’ By the final treaty, concluded on June 20, it was stipulated
that both the University and the City should enjoy all their ancient
privileges and immunities from taxation. It was further stipulated that
colleges should ‘enjoy their ancient form of government, subordinate
to the immediate authority and power of Parliament ... and that all
churches, chapels, &c., shall be preserved from defacing and spoil.’
It was, however, significantly added that if any removals of Heads
or other members of the University should be made by Parliament, the
persons so removed should retain their emoluments for six months after
the surrender; and there was an ominous proviso, ‘that this shall not
extend to any reformation there intended by the Parliament, nor give
them any liberty to intermeddle in the government.’
[Sidenote: Surrender of Oxford, and subsequent condition of the
University]
Four days afterwards (June 24), the curtain fell on this memorable
episode in the history of the University. The garrison of Oxford
marched out 3,000 strong, with colours flying and drums beating,
in drenching rain, by Magdalen Bridge, through St. Clement’s, over
Shotover Hill, between files of Roundhead infantry, lining the
whole route, but offering them no injury or affront. About 900 of
them laid down their arms on arriving at Thame; 1,100 enlisted for
service abroad. Hundreds of civilians preceded or straggled after
them; hundreds more, chiefly nobles and gentlemen, accompanied Prince
Rupert and Prince Maurice two days later, besides a large body which
proceeded northward and westward, through St. Giles’s, with a convoy.
Nevertheless, some two thousand remained behind, to whom passes were
afterwards given by Fairfax. These consisted mainly of ‘gentlemen and
their servants, scholars, citizens, and inhabitants, not properly of
the garrison in pay,’ who had been specially permitted by the articles
of surrender to choose their own time for departure. The military
stores had contained no less than six months’ provision, and seventy
barrels of powder were found in the magazine. Indeed, the writer of
an official report, addressed to Speaker Lenthall, congratulates the
Parliament on the bloodless capture of the great Royalist stronghold,
especially as the surrounding fields were soon afterwards flooded, and
siege operations would have been greatly impeded. Order now reigned
again at Oxford, but the University and colleges were almost emptied of
students, and utterly impoverished; notwithstanding which, some of them
contributed out of their penury to relieve the poor of the city, and
All Souls’ passed a self-denying ordinance ‘that there shall be only
one meal a day between this and next Christmas, and so longer, if we
shall see occasion.’ Anthony Wood’s brief description of the state of
the University after the siege had often been quoted, but deserves a
place in every history of the University, since it is the testimony of
an eye-witness: ‘The colleges were much out of repair by the negligence
of soldiers, courtiers, and others who lay in them; a few chambers
which were the meanest (in some colleges none at all) being reserved
for the use of the scholars. Their treasure and plate was all gone,
the books of some libraries embezzled, and the number of scholars
few, and mostly indigent. The halls (wherein, as in some colleges,
ale and beer were sold by the penny in their respective butteries)
were very ruinous. Further, also, having few or none in them except
their respective Principals and families, the chambers in them were,
to prevent ruin and injuries of weather, rented out to laicks. In a
word, there was scarce the face of an University left, all things being
out of order and disturbed.’ This description is confirmed by college
records, still extant, one of which attests the desolation of Merton,
so long occupied by the Queen’s retainers.
CHAPTER XII.
THE PARLIAMENTARY VISITATION AND THE COMMONWEALTH.
[Sidenote: Measures preparatory to the Visitation]
The Parliament, then dominated by Presbyterians, lost no time in
preparing the University for the coming ‘reformation,’ by sending
down seven Presbyterian divines with power to preach in any Oxford
church. These preachers were all University men, and included Reynolds,
Cheynell, Henry Wilkinson, and Corbet—four scholars of some repute,
and less obnoxious than such army chaplains as Hugh Peters, who had
already obtruded themselves into the Oxford pulpits. Wood ridicules the
effort to convert the academical mind through Presbyterian discourses;
but there is evidence that it was not without its effect, though it
provoked opposition from the rising sect of the Independents, already
established in Oxford, and good Churchmen were edified by a fierce
disputation between Cheynell and one Erbury, an Independent army
chaplain, formerly of Brasenose College, the favourite of the fanatical
soldiery. At the same time a Parliamentary order was issued inhibiting
elections to University or college offices, and the making or renewal
of leases ‘until the pleasure of Parliament be made known therein.’
Such interventions were of course warmly resented by academical
Royalists, especially as the King was still nominally in possession
of his throne, and could only be justified on the assumption that
sovereign authority now resided in the Parliament alone. On this
assumption, however, they were in accordance with the policy of
the four last Tudors, who had treated the University as a national
institution, to be moulded into conformity with each successive
modification of the National Church. Philip, Earl of Pembroke, who
had been deposed in 1643 to make room for the Marquis of Hertford,
now resumed his office, but does not appear to have exercised any
moderating control over the counsels either of the Parliament or of
the University. Meanwhile, the conflict between rival preachers and
the suspension of academical independence naturally produced a state
of anarchy in academical society, whose leading spirits were silently
organising themselves against the coming Visitation.
[Sidenote: Appointment of the Visitors and the Standing Committee of
Parliament]
The delay of the Parliament in commencing this Visitation may well
have been due to more urgent claims on their energy. On January 30,
1647, the King had been given up at Newcastle to the Parliamentary
commissioners, and other events of the greatest moment followed each
other in quick succession. Presbyterianism was ostensibly established
by the Westminster Assembly, but generally accepted by a small
part only of the kingdom, and undermined by the hostility of the
Independents. The so-called ‘Four Ordinances’ passed by Parliament, and
designed to weaken the power of the army, had been met by a protest
from a great meeting of officers held at Saffron Walden. This brought
about an acute conflict between these rival powers, and ‘the Lords and
Commons assembled in Parliament’ were meditating their unsuccessful
attempt to disband the army at the very time when they passed an
ordinance, on May 1, 1647, ‘for the Visitation and Reformation of the
University of Oxford and the several Colleges and Halls therein.’
The object of the Visitation was expressly defined to be ‘the due
correction of offences, abuses, and disorders, especially of late times
committed there.’ The Visitors were twenty-four in number, fourteen
laymen and ten clergymen, with Sir Nathaniel Brent, Warden of Merton
College, as the chairman; but the laymen gradually ceased to attend,
and the work mainly fell into the hands of the clerical Visitors. Among
the lay Visitors were several lawyers, including Brent himself and
Prynne; among the clerical visitors were three fellows of Merton, and
the Principal of Magdalen Hall, which, like Merton, was strongly tinged
with Presbyterian opinions. The Visitors were instructed to inquire
by oath concerning those who neglected to take the ‘Solemn League and
Covenant’ or the ‘Negative Oath,’ those who opposed the execution of
the orders of Parliament concerning the discipline and the Directory,
those who contravened ‘any point of doctrine the ignorance whereof doth
exclude from the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper,’ and those who had
borne arms against the Parliament. By the same ordinance a Standing
Committee of Lords and Commons was appointed to receive reports and
hear appeals from the Visitors; but it soon outstepped these functions,
and sometimes took upon itself the right of legislating directly for
the University.
[Sidenote: Early proceedings of the Visitors, and suppression of
resistance from the University]
The proceedings of the Visitors were opened by a citation issued upon
May 15, 1647, summoning the University to appear before them on June 4,
but an absurd informality led to an adjournment, which the events that
followed the seizure of the King at Holmby House prolonged for three
months. During the interval, a delegacy appointed by the University to
conduct its defence had drawn up a very forcible statement of ‘Reasons’
for not submitting to the new tests about to be imposed. The moderation
and ability of this statement did much to consolidate the opposition
to the Visitation, furnished a repertory of materials for the answers
afterwards made by individual colleges, and earned the special thanks
of the Parliament held at Oxford in 1665. The internal struggles
between the Presbyterians and the Independents favoured the University,
but the Committee of Lords and Commons intervened and armed the
Visitors with fresh powers, including that of compelling the production
of documents, imprisoning the contumacious, and pronouncing definitive
sentences of expulsion. This arbitrary commission, endorsed by the
Chancellor of the University, was conferred upon the Visitors in the
name of the king, himself a prisoner in the hands of the Parliament. On
September 29, 1647, their operations actually commenced with prayers
and preaching ‘for three hours together,’ after which all the Heads of
Houses were cited to appear, Dean Fell of Christchurch being specially
cited as vice-chancellor, and a number of resident fellows were
appointed to act as assistants to the Visitors, ‘and to enquire into
the behaviour of all Governours, Professors, Officers, and Members.’
A large majority of the University and college authorities offered a
resolute though passive resistance, and when the vice-chancellor, as
the avowed leader of the malcontents, was seized and imprisoned, the
Visitors found their legal action more paralysed than ever for want
of any constitutional authority through which their orders could be
carried out. The London Committee, however, again came to their rescue,
and on November 11, 1647, six Heads of colleges, with three canons
of Christchurch, and the two proctors, were forced to appear before
this Committee. Selden, Whitelocke, and others stood their friends,
but the adverse majority prevailed, and sentence of deprivation
was pronounced upon most of them. Still the Visitors’ orders were
disregarded, and ‘not a man stirred from his place or removed.’ At
last, on February 18, 1648, Reynolds was appointed vice-chancellor by
the Earl of Pembroke, and the proctors superseded in favour of men
who could be trusted—Crosse of Lincoln and Button of Merton; while
the Chancellor himself was deputed, on March 8, to instal the new
functionaries in office, and to bring the University into subjection.
On March 30 a further order of deprivation was published, embracing
the removal of Sheldon from the wardenship of All Souls’, and Hammond
from his canonry of Christchurch. About the same time the Visitors were
empowered to use the military force at their disposal, and on April
11 the Chancellor himself arrived to enforce obedience. He found the
University in a state of almost open mutiny against the Parliament and
the Visitors. In spite of fresh orders and the appearance of a body of
troops sent down by Fairfax, the Heads of Houses sentenced to expulsion
refused to quit their colleges, Mrs. Fell retained possession of the
deanery in her husband’s absence, and when the members of Convocation
were solemnly cited to meet the Visitors a mere handful responded.
Great pains had been taken to mar the dignity of the Chancellor’s
reception, and loyal pamphleteers lavished their bitterest jests on
the absence of academical ceremony, the presence of soldiers, and the
substitution of an English for a Latin address of welcome. But all
serious resistance was now vain. During a stay of three days Pembroke
was lodged at Merton, where the Visitors usually held their sittings
in the Warden’s house, and had already abstracted the University
register from the rooms of French, the registrar, who happened to be a
fellow of the college. Reynolds was installed as vice-chancellor; ten
Heads of colleges were actually ejected, most of the professors and
canons of Christchurch shared the same fate; two vacant headships were
immediately filled up, and worthy successors were appointed to most of
the offices vacated by expulsion; new Masters of Arts were created,
some imported from Cambridge, and the Visitors proceeded to purge each
college with a view to its re-organisation.
[Sidenote: Visitation of colleges. Submissions and expulsions]
The details of these collegiate Visitations are beyond the scope of
general University history, but they were all conducted on the same
principle. Every member of the college, from the Head to the humblest
servant, was asked whether he would submit. No evasions were allowed,
and the ‘non-submitters’ were at once turned out. At a later period
(November 1648) the London Committee insisted on the Visitors tendering
also the Negative Oath, involving an abjuration of all connection with
the King, his council, or his officers, and the refusal of this new
test led to some further expulsions. After the lapse of a year, the
London Committee went one step further, and required subscription to
‘the Engagement,’ pledging the signatories to a government without a
King or House of Lords. Reynolds, Pocock, and Mills, who had taken
all the former tests, resigned their offices rather than submit to
this, but it does not seem to have been strictly or universally
applied. No exact list of the cases in which the Visitors exercised
their jurisdiction can now be made out, but the evidence preserved
in the ‘Visitors’ Register,’ which has come down to us, leads to
the conclusion that the numbers of the submissions and expulsions
were nearly equal, amounting in each case to 400 or 500, and spread
over several years. So obstinate was the resistance of some colleges
that it was at last thought necessary to proclaim that any expelled
members remaining in Oxford should incur the penalty of death. But the
functions of the Visitors were by no means purely inquisitorial and
judicial. They also superintended, and often personally directed, the
whole internal management of colleges, regulating leases, dictating
admissions to scholarships and fellowships, making arrangements for
examinations, deciding on the rate of allowances, suggesting if not
prescribing the alteration of statutes, and overriding corporate rights
of self-government with a despotic air which Laud might have envied.
[Sidenote: Reception of Fairfax and Cromwell]
While they were thus engaged, Fairfax and Cromwell visited Oxford
together in state on May 17, 1649. They were lodged and entertained
at All Souls’, in the absence of the new Warden, now on duty in
Parliament, by Zanchy, the sub-warden, and one of the proctors, who
happened to be a colonel in the Parliamentary army. Both the generals
received a D.C.L. degree, and Cromwell, addressing the University
authorities on behalf of himself and Fairfax, professed his respect
for the interests of learning, and assured them of his desire to
promote these interests for the sake of the commonwealth. They dined at
Magdalen, played bowls on the college green, had supper in the Bodleian
Library, and attended University sermons at St. Mary’s. There is no
reason to doubt the sincerity of the assurances given by Cromwell,
who became Chancellor on the death of Pembroke, in January 1650. In
this capacity, he not only presented the University with a collection
of manuscripts, but resisted the reduction of academical endowments
proposed by the Barebones Parliament, and supported by Milton; while
Fairfax, himself a man of scholarlike tastes, had already proved his
regard for the University when the city was in his power.
[Sidenote: Second Board of Visitors]
The first stage of the Visitation terminated in April 1652, when the
London Committee was dissolved, and the Visitors ceased to act. Their
work had been constantly interrupted by differences with the London
Committee, whom they recognised as their official superiors, but who
had of course little acquaintance with University affairs. These bodies
were equally resolved to Presbyterianise the University, to make its
education more emphatically religious, to strengthen moral discipline,
and to enforce such rules as those against excess in dress, and
even that which enjoined the colloquial use of Latin. They differed
chiefly in their mode of action, the Visitors desiring to adopt a
more conciliatory attitude, and to show more respect for academical
independence than the London Committee was prepared to sanction.
Several changes had taken place among the former, and the retirement
of Reynolds had weakened the moderate party on a board which, however,
remained distinctively Presbyterian. During the fourteen months between
April 1652 and June 1653 the history of the University, like the
Visitors’ Register, presents almost a blank. On September 9, 1652,
Owen, who had succeeded Reynolds as Dean of Christchurch, was nominated
vice-chancellor by Cromwell. On October 16 he was placed at the head
of a commission to execute all the Chancellor’s official powers. With
him were associated Goddard, the Warden of Merton; Wilkins, the Warden
of Wadham; Goodwin, the President of Magdalen; and Peter French,
prebendary of Christchurch; and the government of the University seems
to have been practically transferred from the Visitors into their
hands. Of these men, Goddard had been head physician to Cromwell’s
army in Ireland, and afterwards in Scotland; Owen and Goodwin had been
his chaplains, and thoroughly enjoyed his confidence; Wilkins was one
of the most eminent scientific authorities of his time; French was
Cromwell’s brother-in-law and had been on the Board of Visitors. All
of these, except Wilkins, were appointed, with five others, to serve
on a new and temporary Board of Visitors, for the creation of which
the University itself had petitioned, in order to carry on the new
academical settlement, with the expression of a hope that they might
be fewer in number than before, and all resident. The proceedings of
this Board, in which the Independents were more strongly represented,
deserve but little notice. The process of weeding out the University
and colleges having been completed, and strict rules laid down, little
remained except to interpret these rules, to organise the new system,
and to guard against the revival of abuses. The Visitors, however,
agreed to meet every Monday and Tuesday, and succeeded in doing
much useful work. In September 1654, the Board was reconstituted by
Cromwell, who had been solemnly congratulated by the University on his
assumption of the Protectorate in the previous December.
[Sidenote: Third Board of Visitors, and conclusion of the Visitation]
As Owen had been the ruling spirit on the second Board of Visitors,
so this last was mainly dominated by the influence of Goodwin, and
contained several additional members, some Presbyterians. It lasted
no less than four years, but the records of its proceedings are but
scanty, and chiefly relate to corrections of abuses, such as corrupt
resignations of fellowships and irregular elections. In short, the
Parliamentary Visitors, having placed the government of the University
and colleges in hands which they regarded as trustworthy, were mainly
occupied in discharging the functions which properly belonged to
the Chancellor and the ordinary Visitors of the several colleges.
In an appeal from Jesus College, they deliberately set aside the
jurisdiction of the Earl of Pembroke as hereditary Visitor of that
society. On the other hand, after Cromwell’s resignation of the
chancellorship on July 3, 1657, they went so far as to lay before him
their decision on an important case at All Souls’, and received from
him an assurance ‘of all due encouragement and countenance from his
Highnesse and the Councell.’ Even while they were claiming a paramount
authority, the University was insensibly recovering its independence.
As vice-chancellor and Dean of Christchurch, Owen was still a great
power in the University, and supported a body of Delegates who proposed
a sort of provisional constitution for the University under which
independent representatives of Convocation would have been associated
with the Visitors. In another instance, Owen sought to override a
vote of Convocation against reforms which he proposed by the direct
action of the Visitors and even of the Protector’s Council, but was
foiled in the first attempt, and dissuaded from making the second.
In fact, the University had begun to legislate again for itself, and
was becoming somewhat impatient of being nursed and schooled by a
meddlesome select committee of its own members. As Convocation alleged,
‘Visitors residing upon the place do rather nourish and ferment than
appease differences,’ and there was a natural resentment against Heads
of colleges acting as judges on their own causes. Having done its
real work, the Visitation was perishing of inanition. After Richard
Cromwell had been elected Chancellor in July 1657, he appointed Dr.
Conant, Rector of Exeter, vice-chancellor, and from this moment Conant,
whose importance had long been growing, became the real governor of
the University. With a firmness and zeal for reform fully equal to
Owen’s, he combined a more conciliatory and statesmanlike character,
and while he resisted, as the champion of academical privileges,
Cromwell’s scheme for a new University at Durham, he stoutly upheld the
autonomy of colleges against the project for superseding all episcopal
Visitors. Nevertheless, for six months after his nomination to the
vice-chancellorship the Parliamentary Visitors continued to meet, and
to make occasional orders, the last of which is dated April 8, 1658,
when their register breaks off abruptly. It is not known how their
commission was terminated, or whether it was terminated at all. By this
time, however, it was beginning to be manifest that, after all, the old
order in Church and State was regretted by a majority of the people,
and that England was almost tired of Puritan despotism. Parliament
itself had virtually established an amended monarchy with a new House
of Lords, and the army alone had prevented Cromwell from assuming the
title of King. No one was better aware than he of the reaction in
popular sentiment, calling for a revival of the institutions so hastily
demolished, and his prescient mind foreboded, if it did not actually
foresee, the coming restoration of the Stuarts. In this last year
of his life there was no force in the central government to push on
further interference with Oxford. Moreover the University was now in
good order, and possessed the confidence of the nation.
[Sidenote: State of the University on the recovery of its independence]
It is clear, indeed, from scattered notices of passing events, that its
inner life had been less disturbed by the presence of the Visitors than
we might infer from the space which they naturally fill in University
history, and that since the close of the Civil War Oxford studies and
habits had been gradually resuming their ordinary course. It is some
proof of this that even during the Puritan interregnum no order was
issued to put down the disorderly and indecorous buffoonery of the
_Terræ Filii_, those self-constituted and privileged satirists whose
sallies upon University dignitaries continued to scandalise graver
censors of academical morals for several generations. When John Evelyn
visited Oxford in 1654, and witnessed the celebration of the Act in
St. Mary’s Church, he found ‘the ancient ceremonies and institutions
as yet not wholly abolished,’ enjoyed the usual round of festivities,
and admired the mechanical inventions contrived by Dr. Wilkins with the
aid of young Christopher Wren. In the following year a coffee-house was
opened opposite All Souls’ College, and largely frequented by Royalists
and others ‘who esteemed themselves either _virtuosi_ or wits,’ and
in many a private house the services of the Church were regularly
performed by clergymen in surplices, to congregations of gownsmen,
with the full knowledge, if not the actual connivance, of Cromwell and
the Visitors. The academical population was already larger than it had
been in the reign of James I., and the University contained quite as
many scholars and divines of established reputation. Throughout all
the disorders and confusion incident to revolutionary times, it had
never ceased to be respected as a home of religion and learning, and
Clarendon himself bears unconscious witness to the character of the
Visitation in the well-known passage which concludes his strictures
upon it. For, after denouncing it as a reign of barbarism, he proceeds
to say that, in spite of all, the University ‘yielded a harvest of
extraordinary good and sound knowledge in all parts of learning, and
many who were wickedly introduced applied themselves to the study of
good learning and the practice of virtue, and had inclination to that
duty and obedience they had never been taught, so that when it pleased
God to bring King Charles the Second back to his throne, he found that
University abounding in excellent learning, and devoted to duty and
obedience little inferior to what it was before its desolation.’
CHAPTER XIII.
THE PERIOD BETWEEN THE RESTORATION AND THE REVOLUTION.
[Sidenote: The Restoration and new Visitation of the University]
On Monday, February 13, 1660, news was brought to Oxford that a ‘free
Parliament,’ or Convention, was about to be assembled, and was hailed
with great rejoicings as a sure presage of the coming Restoration. On
May 29 Charles II. entered London, and in June a new set of Visitors
appeared at Oxford to undo the work of their predecessors under the
Commonwealth. This Visitation was issued at the instance, if not by the
direct authority, of the Marquis of Hertford, who succeeded Richard
Cromwell on his resignation in May on the King’s return, and who
himself, dying in the following October, was succeeded by Clarendon.
Wood draws a graphic picture of the various emotions pourtrayed in the
countenances of the defeated and victorious parties at Oxford, the one
plucking their hats over their eyes and foreseeing speedy retribution,
the others with cheerful looks, and reinstating ‘all tokens of
monarchy that were lately defaced or obscured in the University.’
Happily, the personal constitution of the commission was by no means
exclusive, since at least eight of its members had submitted to the
last Visitation, and held offices during the ‘usurpation,’ as it was
now to be called. Their instructions, too, were mainly directed to a
restitution of expelled Royalists, of whom the number had greatly
dwindled in the interval, many having died or ‘changed their religion,’
while others, being married, were no longer eligible for college
fellowships. It is said that not above one-sixth remained to be
restored, but among these were several persons of considerable note.
Sheldon had already regained the wardenship of All Souls’; Walker
recovered the mastership of University; Oliver again became President
of Magdalen; Yate, Principal of Brasenose; Newlin, President of Corpus;
Potter, President of Trinity; Baylis, President of St. John’s; Mansell,
Principal of Jesus; and Wightwick, Master of Pembroke. Reynolds was
appointed in quick succession Dean of Christchurch and Warden of
Merton, whence he was promoted to the see of Norwich in the following
year. A large proportion of the fellows elected during the previous
Visitation were allowed to keep their places, for which there were
no rival claimants; others, though statutably elected, were turned
out, but in some cases they were consoled with chaplaincies or other
subordinate posts. Two or three months sufficed to complete these
personal changes, but a royal letter re-established all the statutes
and regulations in force before the ‘usurpation,’ including the oaths
introduced under James I., and this letter, coupled with the Act of
Uniformity passed in 1662, must have rendered the positions of many
Puritans at Oxford practically untenable. By a clause in that Act, it
was for the first time required that every person elected to a college
fellowship should make a declaration of conformity to the liturgy of
the Church of England in the presence of the vice-chancellor. Such a
provision had a sensible effect in making Oxford once more a seminary
of the clergy and country gentry, but there was no violent break
in the continuity of its corporate life. For some little time after
the Restoration, the University was in an unsettled state, and the
students, released from the bondage of Puritan discipline, betrayed
some pardonable excitement; but good order revived under a succession
of prudent vice-chancellors, and Oxford, so long the battle-ground of
rival parties in the State, enjoyed comparative repose under Charles II.
[Sidenote: Extension of University buildings. Sheldonian Theatre]
Several improvements in the external features of the city and
University may be dated from this reign. Not the least was the erection
of the famous Sheldonian Theatre for the performance of the annual
Acts, now known as ‘Commemorations,’ and other academical solemnities.
This building was founded by Gilbert Sheldon, who, having resumed the
wardenship of All Souls’ in 1660, and become Archbishop of Canterbury
in 1663, was elected Chancellor in succession to Clarendon in 1667.
In common with many Anglicans of the Laudian school, Sheldon had long
objected to the profanation of St. Mary’s Church involved in the use
of it as a kind of academical town-hall for scholastic exercises and
secular displays. Perhaps the contempt of the Puritans for sacred
edifices had quickened the zeal of Royalists for their dedication to
strictly religious purposes; at all events, the archbishop offered
1,000_l._ towards the construction of a suitable theatre, and, meeting
with little support from others, ultimately took upon himself the whole
cost, amounting to 25,000_l._ The mode in which the site was procured
illustrates the change which was already passing over mediæval Oxford,
now in process of conversion from a fortified into an open town.
Though a great part of the walls was preserved, and the city gates
survived for another century, the ditch was being filled up and new
streets constructed along the course of it. Several houses adjoining
the old ramparts were purchased on the north side of the Divinity
School; Christopher Wren was engaged as the architect, and Streeter as
the painter of the pictures which adorn the ceiling; and the building,
having been commenced in 1664, was completed in 1669—the year in which
the Divinity School was restored according to Wren’s designs. John
Evelyn received a degree at the first academical festival held in it,
and was as much impressed by the grandeur of the spectacle and the
learning of the discourses as he was shocked by the vulgar ribaldry
of the _Terræ Filius_. It is worthy of notice that in the address
delivered on this occasion by Dr. South, as Public Orator, were ‘some
malicious and indecent reflections on the Royal Society, as underminers
of the University.’ That society, in fact, passed through much of its
infancy, if it did not take its birth, at Oxford. Among its earliest
and most influential members were Dr. Wilkins, the Warden of Wadham,
Dr. Goddard, the Warden of Merton, and Dr. Wallis, a Cambridge man,
who afterwards became Savilian professor of geometry in Oxford. These
and others were in the habit of meeting for scientific discussions
at Goddard’s lodgings, or Gresham College, in London, before the end
of the Civil War, but about 1649 all three of them were settled in
Oxford, where they found congenial associates in such men as William
Petty, Robert Boyle, and Wren, and resumed their meetings in Petty’s or
Wilkins’ lodgings, while the rest continued to meet in London.
[Sidenote: Growth of æsthetic tastes and social refinement]
Other facts attest the variety of intellectual life and interests at
Oxford during the same period. Evelyn speaks of an organ as placed
in the upper gallery of the theatre, and of ‘excellent music, both
vocal and instrumental,’ as part of the programme at the opening of
the Sheldonian Theatre. The earliest order for the apportionment of
seats assigns that very gallery ‘for the performance of music,’ while
it allots places to ladies, strangers, and ‘Cambridge scholars.’
Thenceforth music played a considerable part among academical
recreations, and a taste for the _belles-lettres_ and the fine arts
was rapidly developed. In 1677, the Arundel marbles were presented to
the University by the Earl of Arundel, mainly owing to the assiduous
exertions of John Evelyn; on May 24, 1683, the Ashmolean Museum was
opened, and in the next month Convocation accepted Elias Ashmole’s
gift of all his ‘rarities,’ consisting of valuable collections in
natural history and antiquities. A certain air of literary dilettantism
was characteristic of the same age at the University as well as in
the metropolis. Under a statute passed in 1662, bachelors of Arts
were required, before inception, to recite from memory two Latin
declamations of their own composition, and from this period may be
dated the gradual triumph of _Literæ Humaniores_ over scholastic
disputations in the examination-system of Oxford. Versification in
Latin now became a favourite pastime of Oxford scholars, and many poems
of doubtful Latinity on the politics or philosophy of the day were
composed there during the latter half of the seventeenth century. In
the meanwhile, modern notions of comfort were beginning to modify the
old austerity of college life. The earliest of Oxford common-rooms was
instituted at Merton College in 1661, and sixteen years later Anthony
Wood mentions ‘common chambers’ together with alehouses (of which there
were said to be above 370), and the newly established ‘coffea-houses,’
as contributing to the decay of ‘solid and serious learning.’ College
gardens, too, received far more attention than before, and we may
still trace on Loggan’s maps and plans the geometrical designs upon
which these little plots were ingeniously laid out by the Caroline
landscape-gardeners, though Magdalen ‘water walks’ retained their
native wildness.
[Sidenote: First visit of Charles II.]
Charles II. twice visited Oxford, where his presence and example
could scarcely have been conducive to virtue or decorum among the
students. His reign is marked by frequent interference with the freedom
of college elections, in the form of attempts to use fellowships as
rewards for his favourites or the relations of old cavaliers, though
in more than one instance he gracefully retracted his mandate. When he
arrived at Oxford from Salisbury, in September 1665, the plague was at
its height in London. There he remained until the following February,
lodging, as usual, at Christchurch, while the Queen was accommodated
at Merton, residing in the very rooms in which her mother-in-law,
Henrietta Maria, held her Court during the Civil War. Miss Stuart,
afterwards Duchess of Richmond, occupied a fellow’s rooms in the
same college, and another set was assigned to Barbara Villiers, Lady
Castlemaine, and afterwards Duchess of Cleveland. In these rooms, on
December 28, 1665, was born her son, George Villiers, afterwards Earl
of Northumberland and Duke of Grafton. It is stated in the college
register that bachelor fellows and scholars were turned out of their
chambers to make room for the Court, and that as there were more ladies
than students in the chapel, ‘ordinary prayers’ were used in the
service.
[Sidenote: Second visit of Charles II. Parliament assembled and
dissolved at Oxford]
Sixteen years had elapsed before Charles II. again visited Oxford,
in the spring of 1681, to open the last Parliament ever held in the
city, supposing that Whig members would there be subjected to loyalist
influences, and more amenable to his own dictation. The supposed
discovery of the ‘Popish Plot’ in 1678 had provoked a fresh outburst
of Protestant enthusiasm and bigotry. An Act had been passed disabling
all Papists, except the Duke of York, from sitting in either House of
Parliament, and was quickly followed by a Bill to exclude the Duke of
York from the succession. To arrest the progress of this Bill, two
Parliaments had been dissolved by the King, and that summoned to meet
at Oxford lasted but a week. The King journeyed thither surrounded
by his guards of horse and foot, while the Exclusionist leaders were
escorted by hosts of friends and armed retainers. On this occasion,
the schools of geometry, astronomy, and Greek were fitted up for the
House of Lords, the Convocation House being adapted to receive the
Commons. The Commons again brought in the Exclusion Bill. The King met
it with a strange proposal that, after his own death, the government
should be carried on in James’s name by the Prince of Orange as Regent.
The Commons persisted with the Bill, whereupon the Parliament was
suddenly dissolved by the King, who had quietly put the crown and
robes of state into a sedan chair, got into it himself, and surprised
both Houses by his sudden appearance to close the session. During
this short crisis, anti-Papist sentiments found expression among the
gownsmen, but we may safely assume that a majority of graduates were
secretly in favour of the King against the Exclusionists. Anthony Wood,
remarking on the decline of students in 1682, attributes it to three
causes. The first is the constant expectation of another Parliament
to be held at Oxford, and the fear of being turned out to make room
for members. The second is that ‘all those that we call Whigs’ (a name
just invented) ‘and side with the Parliament, will not send their sons
for fear of their being Tories.’ The last is that the University, like
the Episcopal bench, labours under the suspicion of a leaning towards
Popery.
[Sidenote: Doctrine of passive resistance adopted by the University.
Expulsion of Locke]
In the following year, the University was afforded a good opportunity
for demonstrating its sympathy with the Duke of York by the disclosure
of the so-called ‘Rye House Plot.’ Accordingly, on July 21, 1683,
Convocation passed a decree again condemning the doctrine that
resistance to a king is lawful, which doctrine it formulated in six
propositions expressly stated to have been culled from the works
of Milton, Baxter, and Goodwin. By the same decree, however, the
University recorded an equally solemn anathema against other heresies
mostly founded on the despotic principles of Hobbes’ ‘Leviathan,’
thereby anticipating the verdict of the country in 1688. Within three
months of his death, Charles II., acting on these principles, was
betrayed into a strange piece of intolerance, more worthy of his
successor, in which he was abetted by the Chapter of Christchurch,
and of which the illustrious John Locke was the victim. On November 5,
1684, a letter was addressed by Sunderland to Dr. John Fell, Dean of
Christchurch and Bishop of Oxford, directing him to ‘have Locke removed
from being a student.’ Fell replied that Locke had been carefully
watched for years, but had never been heard to utter a disloyal word
against the government, notwithstanding which he basely offered to
procure his removal on receipt of an order from the King, and actually
did so.
[Sidenote: Conduct of the University on the outbreak of Monmouth’s
rebellion. James II.’s treatment of Magdalen College]
In the first year of James II.’s reign, the University of Oxford was
once more stirred by martial ardour, when the Duke of Monmouth landed
in Dorsetshire. Volunteers from the colleges mustered in great force
to oppose him; a troop of horse and a regiment of foot were enrolled
under the Earl of Abingdon, and the victory of Sedgemoor was celebrated
with academical bonfires, in which, for once, the City took part. A
week later, upon a false alarm, the volunteers were again called out,
but soon disbanded. With that strange ignorance of his countrymen which
ultimately proved his ruin, James interpreted these signs of loyalty
as pledges of abject devotion to his person, and proceeded to strain
the well-tried fidelity of the University by gross outrages on its
privileges. The grand secret of his fatuous statecraft was the use of
the dispensing power, as its end was the supremacy of the Crown and the
restoration of the ancient faith. Having obtained an opinion from the
judges favourable to this dispensing power, he had bestowed commissions
in the army and Church preferments on several professed Romanists.
Fell was succeeded as Dean by Massey, an avowed Papist, nominated
by James, and soon afterwards both the Universities were attacked by
the new Court of High Commission. Cambridge boldly refused to obey a
royal mandate for the admission of a Benedictine to a degree without
taking the usual oath. A severer ordeal was prepared for Oxford. With
such instruments as Obadiah Walker, the Master of University, the King
seriously meditated the conversion of the University, and dispensations
were granted for establishing Romanistic services in colleges. By the
Declaration of Indulgence, issued in 1687, James assumed to make Roman
Catholics admissible to corporations; and the colleges appeared to
offer a favourable trial ground for the experiment. All Souls’ had just
escaped a royal mandate for the election of a Roman Catholic to its
wardenship by electing an extreme Tory of doubtful character, who had
friends at Court. The presidentship of Magdalen College was now vacant,
and Farmer, a Papist of notoriously bad character, was recommended for
it by royal letters. The fellows refused to comply, justifying their
refusal on the ground that James’s nominee was not only unfit for the
office but was also disqualified by their statutes. Accordingly, after
vainly petitioning the King to withdraw his command, they elected
Hough, one of their own body, to whom no exception could be taken. The
election was confirmed by the Visitor, but annulled by the new Court
of High Commission, under the presidency of Jefferies, who treated
a deputation from the college with brutal insolence. The King then
issued another order, commanding the college to elect Parker, bishop
of Oxford, an obsequious tool of his own policy. He even came to
Oxford in person, on September 4, 1687, in order to enforce obedience,
and did not scruple to intimidate the fellows with rude threats of
his royal displeasure in case they should prove contumacious. The
conduct of Magdalen on this occasion was eminently constitutional, and
had no slight influence in determining the attitude of the nation.
The fellows maintained their rights firmly but respectfully, and
unanimously declined submission to any arbitrary authority. Thereupon a
commission was appointed with full powers to dispossess all recusants
by military force, and the new President and twenty-five fellows were
actually ejected and declared incapable of Church preferment. Parker
died within a twelvemonth, but James substituted one Gifford, a Papist
of the Sorbonne, and was proceeding to repeople the college with Roman
Catholics when the acquittal of the Seven Bishops and the invitation to
William of Orange suddenly opened his eyes to his real position. During
the month of October 1688 he made desperate efforts to save himself
from ruin, restoring many officers deprived of their commissions,
dissolving the Ecclesiastical Commission, and removing Sunderland
and Petre from his council. In this death-bed fit of repentance he
addressed letters to the bishop of Winchester, as Visitor of Magdalen,
reinstating the ejected fellows, who, however, had scarcely returned
before James had abdicated, and William and Mary had been proclaimed.
CHAPTER XIV.
UNIVERSITY POLITICS BETWEEN THE REVOLUTION AND THE ACCESSION OF GEORGE
III.
[Sidenote: Attitude of the University towards the Revolution. Visit of
William III.]
The Revolution of 1688-9 seems to have been quietly accepted at Oxford
as an irrevocable fact rather than welcomed as the consecration of
civil and religious liberty. For a while, indeed, the outrageous
invasion of academical privileges by James II. produced its natural
effect, and deputies from the University were despatched to salute
William III. at Crewkerne, after his landing in Torbay. William
actually came as far as Abingdon, but, there receiving news of James’s
flight, sent to excuse himself, and hurried on towards London. Burnet
tells us that, at the same time, and at his request, the ‘Association,’
or pledge to support him in restoring order and liberty, was signed by
almost all the Heads of colleges and the chief men of the University.
But he adds that some of the signatories, ‘being disappointed in the
preferments they aspired to, became afterwards King William’s most
implacable enemies.’ At all events, reactionary tendencies gradually
manifested themselves, and it is said that Locke, who had little cause
for gratitude to Oxford, urged the King to reform the Universities once
more, alleging that otherwise the work of the Revolution ‘would all
soon go back.’ William had been recognised as a deliverer, but Oxford
loyalists had not abandoned their allegiance to the Stuart dynasty,
however inconsistent with their submission to William as king _de
facto_ by the will of a Parliamentary majority. It was not until the
autumn of 1695, after the death of Mary, and the complete transfer of
power to the Whigs, that he found time to visit the University, for a
few hours only, on his way from Woodstock to Windsor. He was received
by the Chancellor, the second Duke of Ormond, and one of a family
which, as representing the high Tory aristocracy, held this office, as
if by hereditary right, for a period of ninety years. All the usual
ceremonies were observed; a select body of Doctors and Masters ‘rode
out in their gowns to meet the King’ a mile on the Woodstock road,
and a grand procession conducted him down the High Street to the east
gate of the schools, through which he passed directly to the theatre,
where a sumptuous banquet was prepared for him. Evelyn states that,
being coldly received, he declined the banquet and barely stayed an
hour; according to another report, in itself improbable, the fear of
poison deterred him from tasting the refreshments provided. However
this may be, he certainly never courted or acquired popularity at the
University, which henceforth became a hotbed of Jacobite disaffection
for at least two generations.
[Sidenote: Origin of Oxford Jacobitism. Visit of Queen Anne]
The exact source of this sentiment is somewhat difficult to ascertain,
but it was probably a survival of the Puritan Visitation, and was
doubtless connected with hearty respect for the Non-jurors, to
whose ranks, however, Oxford contributed fewer resident members
than Cambridge. But Oxford Churchmen assuredly cherished a genuine
hatred of the latitudinarian opinions attributed to William III.,
and afterwards patronised by Whig statesmen. Whatever may have been
its source, and whether it was in the nature of a settled conviction
or of an inveterate fashion, Jacobite partisanship was shared alike
by ‘dons’ and by undergraduates, it was the one important element in
the external history of the University under the first two Georges,
and, like Scotch Jacobitism, it retained a sort of poetical existence
up to a still later period. In their opposition to the Comprehension
Scheme promoted by the King, the University of Oxford was supported
by that of Cambridge, in which there long continued to be a strong
Jacobite minority, but which, by comparison with Oxford, soon came
to be regarded as a nursery of Whig principles. Still the commission
appointed to prepare a scheme of Comprehension included the names
of Aldrich, afterwards dean of Christchurch, who had succeeded the
Romanist Massey, and Jane, Regius Professor of divinity, who had been
converted from extreme Toryism by James II.’s aggression on Magdalen,
but was reconverted by William III.’s neglect of his claims to a
bishopric. The hopes of a Jacobite reaction, excited by the accession
of Queen Anne, found an enthusiastic echo in the University. On July
16, 1702, a grand ‘Philological Exercise’ was celebrated in the theatre
for the special purpose of honouring the new Queen. On August 26 of the
same year, Queen Anne herself visited Oxford, where a fierce struggle
for precedence at her reception took place between the University and
City, which afterwards showed more respect for the Stuart dynasty in
exile than when it was on the throne. Burnet complains bitterly of the
clerical Toryism and ecclesiastical bigotry which prevailed at Oxford
in 1704, accusing the University of ‘corrupting the principles’ of its
students. Hearne, the learned Oxford chronicler, writing on September
2, 1705, notices a thanksgiving sermon preached by a Mr. Evans, of St.
John’s, a clergyman of doubtful character, of which Dr. Lloyd, bishop
of Worcester, said that ‘he was very glad there was one even in Oxford
that would speak for King William.’ He adds, three days later, that
Evans had talked mightily of publishing this sermon, but that ‘there is
none in Oxford will print a thing so scandalously partial against the
Church of England.’
[Sidenote: Popularity of Sacheverell. Position of the Whig minority]
During the furious outbreak of High Church fanaticism, which rallied
the mass of English clergy and shattered the Whig ascendency at the
end of 1709, the gownsmen were active partisans of Dr. Sacheverell,
himself a graduate of Magdalen. The vice-chancellor came forward as
surety for him, Atterbury, the future dean of Christchurch, defended
him with great ability, and Oxford afterwards gave him an enthusiastic
reception. The House of Lords marked its sense of this disloyalty in
the following year by causing the famous University decree of 1683 to
be publicly burned, together with Sacheverell’s sermons. No sooner
did Queen Anne disavow her Whig advisers and place herself openly
under Tory influences, than Oxford, undeterred by this rebuke, paraded
its Toryism without disguise, and, had it retained its old place in
national politics, the Hanoverian succession would have encountered a
still more formidable opposition. But the Whig oligarchy again saved
the country. After four years of Tory policy, another crisis occurred,
the Tory ministry broke up, the great Whig lords forced their way
into the council chamber, the Hanoverian succession was secured, and
Queen Anne opportunely died. The accession of the Elector of Hanover
was received at Oxford with sullen disappointment, but the Heads of
Houses consulted their own interests by offering a reward of 100_l._ for
the discovery of an unknown person who had delivered at the mayor’s
house a letter protesting against the proclamation of George I. He was
proclaimed, nevertheless, at St. Mary’s, as well as at Carfax, but
the scantiness of the attendance and shabbiness of the procession was
remarked with satisfaction by the Tories. Baffled in their hopes of
support in the highest quarter, the Tory democracy of the University
took refuge in libels, disloyal toasts, and offensive lampoons. The
Whig gownsmen, few as they were, and mostly confined to New College,
Oriel, and Merton, had an influential protector in Gardiner, the
Warden of All Souls’, and vice-chancellor from 1712 to 1715, himself a
moderate Tory, but resolute in saving the University from the risk of
casting in its lot with the Pretender. They formed themselves into a
club, which they called the ‘Constitution Club,’ and to which no one
below the rank of B.A. was eligible. This club soon became the chief
object of Tory resentment, at last culminating in a riot which called
for the intervention of the government.
[Sidenote: Jacobite demonstrations. A troop of horse sent to Oxford]
On May 28, 1715, being the first anniversary of George I.’s birthday
since his accession, the Whig club had assembled to commemorate the
day at the King’s Head tavern. They were attacked by a Tory mob, and a
fray ensued, which broke out afresh on the following day, being the
Restoration-day. The Heads of Houses, and even the grand jury for the
county, sheltered the aggressors, and reserved all their rebukes for
the obnoxious club. The government naturally took a different view of
the case, and called for explanations. Feeling that matters, had gone
far enough, the University authorities took means to suppress Jacobite
demonstrations on June 10, the Pretender’s birthday; but they were
at no pains to conceal their real inclinations. On the impeachment
and resignation of Ormond, the University hastened to elect his
brother, the Earl of Arran, as his successor in the chancellorship,
and conferred the degree of D.C.L. on Sir Constantine Phipps, a Tory
of Tories, with special marks of honour, while its representatives
in Parliament were prominent leaders of the same party. At last the
patience of the government was exhausted. On the birthday of the
Prince of Wales there were no signs of rejoicing, and complaint of
this omission was made to the mayor by an officer in command of a
recruiting party then in Oxford. Another disturbance ensued, of which
conflicting accounts were sent to London, and the whole affair came
before the House of Lords in the course of a debate on the Mutiny
Bill. The University was ably represented, and a plausible defence was
offered on its behalf, but the verdict of the House was unfavourable.
In the meantime, an address to the Crown voted by the University on
the outbreak of the rebellion in Scotland had met with the reception
which its insincerity deserved, and the government determined to
employ decisive measures. A body of dragoons under Major-General
Pepper entered Oxford, martial law was at once proclaimed, and the
students were ordered to remain within their colleges on pain of being
marched off to military execution. After a few seizures had been made,
the dragoons were replaced by Colonel Handyside’s regiment of foot,
which continued to be quartered in Oxford for the express purpose of
overawing the University—no unnecessary measure when a rebellion of
unknown extent had been planned not only in Scotland and the north of
England but in the western counties. It was on this occasion that an
Oxford wit contrasted the King’s severe treatment of Oxford with his
munificent present of a library to Cambridge in lines which, together
with the Cambridge repartee, have become historical.
[Sidenote: The Constitution Club. Government scheme for reforming the
University]
On May 29 of the following year, while Colonel Handyside’s regiment
was still in Oxford, the Constitution Club was again the scene of a
political commotion, though of a less serious nature. Meadowcourt,
the steward of the club, having forced the junior proctor to drink
the King’s health, was suspended from his degree for the space of two
years; and it was further ordered that he should not be allowed to
supplicate for his grace ‘until he confesses his manifold crimes and
asks pardon upon his knees.’ In spite of the King’s Act of Grace, to
which he skilfully appealed, he was twice refused his M.A. degree. He
lived, however, to bring the disaffection of the University under the
notice of the government in 1719, when the vice-chancellor refused to
notice a disloyal sermon preached by Warton, though he was disappointed
to receive no more than a letter of thanks for his zeal. Other Whigs
endured similar persecutions; the Whig satirist, Amherst, was driven
out of St. John’s College, and social penalties were freely inflicted
on members of Merton, Exeter, Christchurch, and Wadham, then suspected
of being anti-Jacobite societies. The Constitution Club died out
before the end of George I.’s reign, and many academical Whigs became
so disheartened as to conceal their principles or even to affect
Toryism for the sake of preferment. Indeed, the avowed hostility of
Oxford and the doubtful fidelity of Cambridge to the reigning dynasty
were regarded with so much anxiety at Court that it was seriously
contemplated to introduce a Bill to suspend the constitution of
both Universities. The draught of this Bill empowered the ‘King to
nominate and appoint all and every the Chancellor, Vice-Chancellor,
Proctors, and other officers of the said Universities, and all Heads
of Houses, Fellows, Students, Chaplains, Scholars, and Exhibitioners,
and all members of and in all and every the College and Colleges,
Hall and Halls in the said Universities or either of them, upon all
and every vacancy and vacancies,’ &c. This provisional administration
was to last for seven years, and the project of it was approved by
fifteen bishops. Lord Macclesfield, the Lord Chancellor, had drawn
up a separate plan of reform with the same object of controlling the
University through government patronage. The election of Heads was to
be vested in the great officers of State, with the concurrence of the
Visitor and the bishop. The disposition of all other college emoluments
was to be placed in the hands of a commission. The fellowships were
to be limited to a term of twenty years, lest they should conduce to
idleness and self-indulgence. Professorships and minor fellowships
charged with educational duties were to be founded. The benefices of
the Crown and the nobility were to be conferred only on ‘well-affected
persons.’ Colleges in which ‘honest and loyal men’ predominate were to
be specially favoured in the distribution of Crown patronage, ‘till
the true interest in them was become superior to all opposition.’
Happily wiser counsels prevailed, and there is reason to believe that
Archbishop Wake was largely instrumental in averting the danger. He
knew that Oxford Tories could only be influenced through Tory leaders,
and discreetly used such mediation to keep the factious spirit of
the University within tolerable bounds, until the design against its
independence was abandoned. But George I. never deigned to visit
Oxford, being the first sovereign who had failed to do so since the
reign of Mary.
[Sidenote: Gradual decline of Jacobitism in Oxford during the reign of
George II.]
During the earlier years of Walpole’s administration the University
seems to have been comparatively free from political turmoil. Many of
the gownsmen, however, took part with the citizens in the disorderly
revels, lasting for three nights, which celebrated the withdrawal of
the Excise Bill, in 1733, when the healths of Ormond, Bolingbroke, and
James III. were publicly drunk round the bonfires. On the other hand,
in the following year the University accorded an enthusiastic reception
to the Prince of Orange, who came to marry the Princess Anne. The city
shared in these festivities, conferring its freedom upon the prince
at the north gate on his return from Blenheim, while bell-ringing,
illuminations, and bonfires were kept up for three nights together.
Still covert Jacobitism found expression in the University pulpit, and
John Wesley, desiring to guard himself against the imputation of it
when he preached before the University in 1734, got the vice-chancellor
to read and approve his sermon beforehand. Even after the suppression
of the rebellion in 1745 it was not extinct, and in 1748 the government
resorted to somewhat excessive severity against three students who
had toasted the Pretender, although the vice-chancellor and proctors,
apprehensive of the result, had issued a peremptory order declaring
their resolution to put down seditious practices. Further proceedings
were instituted against the vice-chancellor and the University itself,
but the motion was negatived by the Court. The government, however,
was not appeased. When the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle was proclaimed at
Oxford, the vice-chancellor, Heads of Houses, professors, and proctors
took care to participate in public rejoicings with the mayor and
corporation, but a congratulatory address from the University on this
event was rejected with disdain. The loyalty of the University was
still justly distrusted. In 1754 Dr. King, a notorious Jacobite, and
Principal of St. Mary Hall, elicited rounds of applause from the whole
audience in the theatre, filled with peers, members of Parliament, and
country gentlemen, by thrice pausing upon the word _Redeat_, purposely
introduced into his speech to gratify ‘the Old Interest.’ No wonder
that in the same year Pitt denounced Oxford Jacobitism in the House of
Commons; notwithstanding which, in the following year (1755), a Tory
and Jacobite mob, guarding the approaches to the polling-booths at the
county election for days together, prevented the Whigs from giving
their votes. Again, in 1759, Lord Westmoreland, who had been a zealous
Hanoverian, but had afterwards turned Jacobite out of resentment
against Sir Robert Walpole, was elected by the University as its
Chancellor. Yet the days of Oxford Jacobitism were already numbered; it
was well nigh dead as a creed, and it soon ceased to be a fashion. The
marvellous victories of the same year kindled genuine enthusiasm among
the gownsmen, and a most fulsome address was presented to George II. by
the Oxford Convocation, begging ‘leave to approach your sacred person
with hearts full of duty and affection,’ and applauding the measures
taken ‘for the support of the Protestant religion and the liberties of
Europe.’
[Sidenote: Revival of loyalty after the accession of George III. His
visits to Oxford]
With the accession of George III. Jacobitism disappeared or faded
into Toryism of the modern type. In its congratulatory address the
University took special credit to itself for having been ‘ever
faithful to monarchy on the most trying occasions.’ The King’s reply
was guarded, recommending ‘sound principles of religious and civil
duties early instilled into the minds of youth.’ His advice seems
to have been adopted; at all events, we hear no more of academical
Jacobitism, loyalty to George III. became fashionable, Dr. King himself
appeared at Court, and the University was probably sincere when, in
1763, it proposed inviolable ‘attachment to your Majesty’s person and
government.’ It may perhaps have been in recognition of this salutary
change in its attitude that in 1768 the Speaker of the House of Commons
paid it an elaborate compliment, in censuring the authorities of Oxford
City for a gross act of political corruption, specially recommending
for imitation the conduct of their learned neighbour. In the following
year, the University presented another address to the Crown deprecating
political agitation ‘under pretence of defending civil and religious
liberties,’ and assuring his Majesty of its determination to imbue its
students with sound principles. By a happy inconsistency, academical
loyalists now managed to reconcile their old worship of the king _de
jure_ with a hearty acceptance of the Hanoverian succession. Probably
Dr. Nowell, Principal of St. Mary Hall, fairly represented these
sentiments when he reasserted the doctrines of divine right and passive
obedience in a sermon preached before the House of Commons in 1772,
for which he was first thanked and then censured. It deserves notice,
however, that a more liberal spirit already made itself felt in regard
to religious toleration. Though Sir Roger Newdigate, on behalf of the
University, stoutly opposed the relief of clergymen from subscription
to the Thirty-nine Articles, a strong minority in the Oxford
Convocation supported, in February 1773, a proposal for requiring
from candidates for matriculation only a declaration of conformity
to the worship and liturgy of the Established Church. An attempt was
afterwards made to qualify the effect of subscription by appending to
the statute requiring it an explanatory note whereby it was virtually
reduced to a declaration of conformity, but the legal validity of such
an enactment was challenged, and the proposal was quietly dropped.
In March 1779, a petition was presented by the University, through
its chancellor, Lord North, against the Dissenters’ Toleration Bill,
then before Parliament. This petition embodied a protest against the
principle of allowing dissenting ministers and schoolmasters to preach
and teach without making any profession of belief in Christianity or
revelation, but the petitioners were careful to describe themselves
as friends of toleration, so far as it could be reconciled with the
interests of Christianity and the Established Church. These were the
sentiments of the King himself, and a crowning proof of its fidelity
to George III. was given by the University in 1783, when it publicly
thanked the King for dismissing the Coalition Ministry (including its
own Chancellor), and giving his confidence to Pitt—a service which the
king rewarded by visiting Oxford twice from Nuneham Park, in 1785 and
1786. On each occasion he received an enthusiastic welcome, but as it
was in the middle of the Long Vacation, he stayed but a few hours, and
the traditional solemnities of royal visits were not repeated. A like
enthusiasm was shown by the University on his recovery from his first
illness in 1788.
CHAPTER XV.
UNIVERSITY STUDIES IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
[Sidenote: Decay of University education in the eighteenth century]
If we seek to estimate the intellectual life of Oxford during the
century following the Revolution, we find a significant dearth of
trustworthy materials. Such evidence as we possess, however, justifies
on the whole the received opinion that this period is the Dark Age of
academical history. The impulse given to culture and scholarship by
the new learning of the Renaissance had died away as completely as
that given by the scholastic revival of the thirteenth century, and
nothing came in to supply its place. The old disputations were almost
obsolete, the Laudian system of examinations had fallen into scandalous
abuse, the _sex solemnes lectiones_ required for the B.A. degree had
degenerated into ‘wall lectures’ read in an empty school. The practice
of cramming, however, was unknown, and there were no artificial
restrictions to prevent Oxford becoming a paradise of mature study and
original research.
[Sidenote: Contemporary evidence]
Unhappily, it was far otherwise. Though undergraduates were freely
admitted to the Bodleian Library, and it was frequently enriched by
donations, we learn that between 1730 and 1740 many days passed without
there being a single reader there, and it was rare for more than two
books to be consulted in a day. Dean Prideaux, who had long resided in
Oxford, professes, in 1691, ‘an unconquerable aversion to the place,’
doubtless aggravated by his impatience of Jacobite ascendency in the
University, but partly founded on his conviction of its decline as a
seat of education. Hearne, writing in 1726, declared that in nearly
all the colleges the fellows were busied in litigation and quarrels
having no connection with the promotion of learning, adding that ‘good
letters miserably decay every day, insomuch that this Ordination
on Trinity Sunday at Oxford there were no fewer (as I am informed)
than fifteen denied Orders for insufficiency—which is the more to be
noted, because our bishops and those employed by them are themselves
generally illiterate men.’ Similar complaints against the degeneracy
of University teaching abound in eighteenth-century literature.
Adam Smith, in particular, attributes the inefficiency of tutors and
professors chiefly to the fact of their being paid by fixed stipends
instead of by fees. Johnson testifies that he learned very little at
Pembroke College; Lord Malmesbury regarded his two years at Merton
College as the most unprofitable of his life; Swift represents drinking
strong ale and smoking tobacco as the chief accomplishments—not indeed
of all students, but of ‘young heirs’ sent to Oxford in deference
to custom; Lord Chesterfield speaks of the University as known only
for its ‘treasonable spirit,’ and says that, having been at Oxford
himself, he resolved not to send his son there; Lord Eldon describes
the degree-examination in his own time as merely nominal. But perhaps
the most emphatic condemnation of the Oxford system in the eighteenth
century is supplied by the historian Gibbon, whose reminiscences of his
own University career are often quoted as conclusive evidence on the
state of the University in 1752-3. He laments the fourteen months which
he spent at Magdalen College as the ‘most idle and unprofitable of his
whole life.’ He declares that ‘in the University of Oxford, the greater
part of the Public Professors have for these many years given up even
the pretence of teaching.’ He testifies that, in his time, ‘the Fellows
of Magdalen were decent easy men who supinely enjoyed the gifts of the
Founder; their days were filled by a series of uniform employments:
the chapel and the hall, the coffee-house and the common-room; till
they retired, weary and well-satisfied, to a long slumber. From the
toil of reading, or thinking, or writing, they had absolved their
conscience.’ He proceeds to allege that gentlemen-commoners were left
to educate themselves, that ‘the obvious methods of public exercises
and examinations were totally unknown,’ that no superintendence was
exercised over the relations of tutors with their pupils, that his own
tutor, though a good old-fashioned scholar, took no pains to stimulate
or encourage his industry, and that he was allowed to make ‘a tour to
Bath, a visit into Buckinghamshire, and four excursions into London, in
the same winter.’
[Sidenote: Decline in numbers and dearth of eminence in science and
literature]
We cannot but acknowledge that Gibbon’s estimate of the University in
the middle of the century is confirmed by an examination of University
records. If we may judge by the statistics of matriculation, the nation
at large had lost confidence in Oxford education, for the annual number
of admissions, which had often exceeded 300 in the reigns of Anne and
George I., never reached that modest total between 1726 and 1810, while
it often fell below 200 about the end of George II.’s reign. It is
equally certain that Oxford contributed far less than in former ages
to politics or literature. In learning it was distanced by Cambridge,
where the modern examination system was developed earlier, and where
the immortal researches of Newton and the solid learning of Bentley
had raised the ideal of academical study. But the real intellectual
leadership of the country was transferred from both Universities to
London. Indeed, London itself was no longer the only non-academical
centre of science, art, and culture; for even provincial towns, like
Birmingham and Manchester, Derby and Bristol, Norwich, Leeds, and
Newcastle, were already acquiring an industrial independence, and
intellectual life, of their own. The Methodist Revival, indeed, of
which Gibbon was probably unconscious, owed its origin to a small
band of enthusiasts at Oxford.[15] But, except Methodism, the great
movements of thought which underlay the artificial society of the
eighteenth century had no connection with the University, and the
minds which dominated the world of politics and literature were
trained in a wholly different school. The broad constructive ideas,
and ‘encyclopædic spirit,’ as it has been well called, which animated
so many writers and politicians of that age, in all the countries of
western Europe, had little or no place in the University of Oxford.
It was hardly to be expected that engineers and inventors, like
Watt, Arkwright, and Brindley, should have received an University
education, nor do we look in degree-lists for the names of eminent
soldiers like Wellington, or nautical explorers like Cook. But it is
certainly remarkable that so many English poets and humourists—Pope and
Gay, Defoe, Smollett, and Hogarth—should have received no University
education, while Swift, Congreve, and Goldsmith were students of
Dublin, Thomson of Edinburgh, Fielding of Leyden, Prior, Sterne,
and Gray, of Cambridge. Again, if we look to graver departments of
literature, or the history of science, the result is still the same.
Robertson was educated at Glasgow, Hume in France, Berkeley in Dublin;
Herschel and Priestley owed nothing to University education, nor did
John Howard, or Joshua Reynolds, or John Wilkes, or many others who
powerfully influenced the minds of the Georgian era. Jeremy Bentham,
it is true, received a part of his education at Queen’s College,
but he carried away no kindly recollection of his college life, and
sums up his estimate of Oxford training in a single acrimonious
sentence—‘Mendacity and insincerity—in these I found the effects, the
sure and only sure effects, of an English University education.’
[Sidenote: Counter-evidence showing that education and learning were
not wholly neglected]
On the other hand, it would be easy to overstate both the intellectual
sterility and the educational torpor of the University in the century
following the Revolution. The ripe scholarship and academic wit of
Addison may still be appreciated in the pages of the ‘Spectator,’
and Dr. Parr, in replying to Gibbon, was able to compile an imposing
list of Oxford graduates in the eighteenth century ‘distinguished
by classical, oriental, theological, or mathematical knowledge,
by professional skill, or by parliamentary abilities.’ We must
remember that when the historian entered Magdalen College as a
gentleman-commoner, he was in his fifteenth year; when he left it, he
was barely sixteen. The college did not then bear a high reputation
for industry, there were no commoners, and gentlemen-commoners,
being of a different social class from the ‘demies,’ were supposed
to enjoy the privilege of idleness. Gibbon himself mentions that
Corpus was fortunate in possessing an admirable tutor in John Burton.
He also candidly admits that Bishop Lowth was a bright exception to
professional sinecurism, and quotes the bishop’s description of his own
academical life, which is too often forgotten, when Gibbon’s adverse
criticism is magnified into a judicial utterance. ‘I spent many
years,’ says Lowth, ‘in that illustrious society, in a well-regulated
course of useful discipline and studies ... where a liberal pursuit of
knowledge, and a genuine freedom of thought, was raised, encouraged,
and pushed forward by example, by commendation, and by authority.’
Moreover, Gibbon allows that his father may have been unfortunate
in the selection of a college and a tutor, that Sir William Scott’s
tutorial, and Blackstone’s professorial, lectures had done honour to
Oxford, that learning had been made ‘a duty, a pleasure, and even a
fashion’ at Christchurch, and that reforms in the system of instruction
had been effected elsewhere. Lord Sheffield, the editor of his memoirs,
adds further proofs of the same improvement, and, on the whole,
Gibbon’s testimony must be taken as a somewhat one-sided statement of
a witness strongly prejudiced against the ecclesiastical character
of Oxford, and irritated by the necessity of quitting it, owing to
his conversion to Romanism. Similar deductions must be made from the
testimony of Bentham, who entered Queen’s in 1760, at the age of 13,
and took his degree, in 1763, at the age of 16, having cherished a
precocious contempt for juvenile amusements, and a precocious, though
reasonable, objection to signing the XXXIX Articles, in spite of
conscientious doubts.
It is impossible to ascertain how far the admitted decay of University
lectures and examinations was compensated by college tuition. But
it is clear that some colleges maintained an educational system of
their own, and imposed exercises on their members, often in the
form of declamations or disputations, which stood more or less in
the place of those formerly required by the University. At Merton
College, for instance, there were regular hall-disputations, in which
even gentlemen-commoners were expected to bear their part, besides
more solemn disputations in divinity for Bachelors of Arts, and
‘Variations’ for ‘Master-Fellows’ at the end of the Act Term. These
Variations, as described in a work published in 1749, do not seem
to have possessed any great educational value, and, according to a
contemporary author, ‘were amicably concluded with a magnificent and
expensive supper, the charges of which formerly came to 100_l._, but
of late years much retrenched.’ Such logical encounters were clearly
mere survivals or revivals of mediæval dialectics, but there is some
reason to believe that sounder and more useful knowledge was quietly
cultivated, and rewarded by fellowships, though not yet recognised by
University honours. When John Wesley was elected a fellow of Lincoln,
in 1726, disputations were held six times a week, as at Merton, but
he formed his own scheme of studies. He allotted Mondays and Tuesdays
to classics; Wednesdays to logic and ethics; Thursdays to Hebrew and
Arabic; Fridays to metaphysics and natural philosophy; Saturdays
to rhetoric, poetry, and composition; Sundays to divinity; besides
which, he bestowed much attention on mathematics. Doubtless, John
Wesley was no common man, but he was never regarded as a prodigy of
learning by his fellows, and it was the deliberate opinion of Johnson,
in the next generation, that college tuition was not the farce which
Gibbon imagined it. Speaking of Oxford in 1768, Dr. Johnson said:
‘There is here, sir, such a progressive emulation. The students are
anxious to appear well to their tutors; the tutors are anxious to have
their pupils appear well in the college; the colleges are anxious
to have their students appear well in the University; and there are
excellent rules of discipline in every college.’ Sir William Jones,
who obtained a scholarship at University College in 1764, and a
fellowship two years later, found means to prosecute his Oriental
researches there, and mapped out his own time, like Wesley, between
different branches of study. By the statutes of Hertford College,
framed in 1747, undergraduates were required to produce a declamation,
theme, or translation every week, composing it in English during
their second and third years, and in Latin during their fourth. Nor
were fellowship-examinations by any means an unmeaning form in good
colleges. Those at All Souls’ had long been a real test of intellectual
merit, though motives of favouritism sometimes governed the choice
of the electors. At Merton, in the early part of the eighteenth
century, we read of fellowship-elections being preceded by a thorough
examination, including two days of book-work in Homer, Xenophon,
Lucian, Tacitus, and Horace, besides a ‘theme,’ doubtless in Latin.
When we find that some two hundred and fifty editions of classical
works, mostly, but not wholly, in the ancient languages, were published
in Oxford during the first half of the eighteenth century, it is hardly
possible to doubt that many industrious readers must have existed
among the students and fellows of colleges, however imperfect may have
been the organisation of lectures. Dr. Charlett, the eminent Master
of University College, writing in 1715, was able to praise the youths
under his own charge as ‘sober, modest, and studious,’ nor is there
any reason to doubt that many students in other colleges deserved a
like character. Degenerate as it was, and far inferior to Cambridge
in the performance of its higher functions, the University was not so
utterly effete as it is sometimes represented. It produced few great
scholars and fewer great teachers, but it was not wholly unfaithful
to its mission of educating the English clergy and gentry, and the
great philosopher, Berkeley, who had described it as an ideal retreat
for learning and piety, deliberately chose it as his final home and
resting-place.
FOOTNOTES:
[15] No description is here given of the origin and progress of
Methodism in Oxford, since the history of the Methodist Revival is
reserved for a separate volume in the present series.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE UNIVERSITY DURING THE REIGNS OF GEORGE III. AND GEORGE IV.
[Sidenote: Stagnation of University legislation in the eighteenth
century]
We may pass lightly over the history of the University during the
latter part of the eighteenth century, when its external and internal
life were equally barren of memorable events. Only eight statutes
had been enacted by Convocation between 1636 and 1759; nor was the
succeeding period more prolific of reforms. The legislative energy of
the University was confined for the most part to amendments of mere
administrative details, and it was even suggested that such trifling
measures were beyond its powers. In the year 1759, the right of the
University to abrogate any of the Laudian statutes without the consent
of the Crown was challenged by the proctors. The objection, however,
was overruled, and the principle was established that, whereas it was
not competent for the University to make any statutes as immutable
as the laws of the Medes and Persians, it could not delegate any
such power to the King himself, so that any statute made under royal
sanction was subject to repeal, like ordinary bye-laws. In 1770,
a new statute was passed for the regulation of academical habits,
which provoked a long controversy, and incidentally established the
principle, applicable to more important subjects, that no individual
Head of a college, nor even all the Heads of colleges together, could
dispense with statutable rules, independently of Convocation.
[Sidenote: Statutes affecting the University]
Meanwhile, a considerable number of Acts were passed by Parliament
confirming or enlarging the privileges of the University. For instance,
in 1774, the Universities of England and Scotland were empowered by
special enactment to hold in perpetuity their exclusive right of
printing books, the copyright of which should have been vested in them
by the authors. Other Acts granted colleges special exemptions from
the land tax in respect of their buildings, and from legacy duty in
respect of collections and other specific articles bequeathed to them.
Resident members of the University were further exempted from service
in the Militia, and the stringent Act of 1799, ‘for better preventing
treasonable and seditious practices,’ was expressly limited so as not
to curtail the freedom of University lectures or the University press.
[Sidenote: Political sympathies of the University after the outbreak of
the French Revolution]
In 1793, the installation of the Duke of Portland as successor to
Lord North in the chancellorship was signalised by festivities on an
unprecedented scale, and a tumultuous struggle for admission to the
Sheldonian Theatre led to a fray which reflected little credit on
academical manners. The hero of the day, and favourite of the gownsmen,
was Edmund Burke, whose son received an honorary D.C.L. degree, but who
is said to have declined it for himself on the ground that, in 1790,
the Heads of Houses had negatived a requisition from forty-nine Masters
of Arts proposing that a D.C.L. degree should be conferred on him ‘by
diploma.’ The political sympathies of the University were, in fact,
strongly called forth on behalf of the Royalist cause in France, and
a large subscription was raised in 1792 for the relief of the French
refugees, especially Catholic priests, three of whom settled at Oxford.
Tn 1794 nearly 2,500_l._ was contributed for purposes of national
defence by the resident body of graduates, including a grant of 200_l._
from the University chest. In 1798, a further contribution of 4,000_l._
‘in aid of the revenue of the country’ was sent to the government from
the University and colleges of Oxford, while an University volunteer
corps, mustering about five hundred men, was formed and drilled, as
in the days of the Civil War. This martial ardour, and the drain
of students into the army, doubtless contributed to increase the
depression of academical studies which preceded and rendered necessary
the ‘new examination statutes’ of 1800. But academical studies must
also have suffered from the prevailing distress which marked the winter
of 1799, when bread-riots took place in Oxford, and large subscriptions
were raised in the University for the relief of the poor townspeople.
[Sidenote: Accessions to professoriate in the eighteenth century]
Notwithstanding the decline of academical vigour during the eighteenth
century, both the professorial staff and the public buildings of the
University received a considerable extension. In 1708 the Professorship
of Poetry was founded out of funds bequeathed for the purpose by
Henry Birkhead. In 1724 the Regius Professorship of Modern History
was established by George I. In 1728 the Professorship of Botany,
then in a state of suspended animation, was re-endowed out of the
munificent bequest of William Sherard. In 1749 the first Professor
of Experimental Philosophy was appointed, with a salary of 30_l._,
out of the Crewe benefaction. In 1758 the bequest of Charles Viner
took effect by the election of William Blackstone to the new Vinerian
Professorship of Common Law. In 1780 the Clinical Professorship was
founded in connection with the Radcliffe Infirmary. In 1795 the
Professorship of Anglo-Saxon was constituted, forty years after the
death of its founder, Dr. Rawlinson, the famous antiquary, and in 1798
George Aldrich, formerly of Merton College, bequeathed property for the
endowment of Professorships in Anatomy, Medicine, and Chemistry.
[Sidenote: Architectural improvements]
Meanwhile the mediæval aspect of Oxford was modified by many new
architectural features. Early in the century additional buildings
sprang up in Magdalen, Corpus, Queen’s, and Oriel. To the same age
belong the Codrington Library at All Souls’, with the new Library and
Peckwater Quadrangle at Christchurch, and other college buildings. In
1713 the Clarendon Building was opened to receive the University Press.
Books had been printed in Oxford since 1468, when Caxton’s invention
was still on its trial, but Delegates of the Press were not appointed
until 1586, and the University privilege of printing dates from the
patent granted in 1633, at the instance of Archbishop Laud. After 1669
the University Press was set up and worked in the Sheldonian Theatre,
but the copyright of Clarendon’s ‘History of the Rebellion’ having been
presented to the University, the profits were applied towards the cost
of erecting the fine edifice known as the ‘Clarendon Press’ for 118
years. A still more important benefaction was that of the celebrated
Dr. Radcliffe, who died in 1714, leaving a large sum of money to be
accumulated for the foundation of a Medical Library, an Infirmary,
and an Observatory. The first stone of the library was laid in 1737,
all the houses in ‘Cat Street,’ north of St. Mary’s Church, having
been demolished to make room for it. It was opened for the use of
students on April 13, 1749, after a ‘two days’ solemnity,’ including a
Public Act, and a concert managed by Handel, whose oratorios had been
received with great applause at Oxford six years earlier, and whose
‘Sampson’ was performed in the Sheldonian Theatre on the following
day. The Infirmary and Observatory were completed in 1770 and 1795
respectively, but are not under University control, though closely
associated with University studies. In 1788 Sir Robert Taylor, an
architect of some eminence, bequeathed a large sum to found a building
for the cultivation of ‘the European languages,’ but this bequest did
not take full effect until 1848, when the present ‘Taylor Institution’
was opened. Meanwhile, in 1771, an Act of Parliament had been passed
enabling the City to rebuild Magdalen Bridge, and take down the
east and north gates, the south and west gates having been already
demolished. By these alterations the conversion of Oxford into an
University town was finally consummated, and few of its inhabitants now
realise that it was once a fortified city sheltering a cluster of poor
schools and halls not yet aspiring to the dignity of colleges.
[Sidenote: Effects of the French war upon the University. Opposition to
reforms]
The general history of the University in the present century may be
divided into two periods: the first terminated by the Reform Act of
1832, and the great ecclesiastical reaction which followed upon it; the
second embracing the last two or three years of William IV.’s reign,
and the whole reign of Queen Victoria. The new Examination Statute of
1800, and the subsequent introduction of the class system,[16] were
the only events of any academical importance in the earlier of these
periods, and nothing occurred to disturb the repose of the University
during the last twenty years of George III.’s reign, or the ten years’
reign of George IV. The domestic records of this interval are meagre
and trivial in the extreme. When the Peace of Amiens was proclaimed in
1802, there seems to have been a short-lived revival of educational
vigour at Oxford; when the war broke out afresh in 1803 volunteers were
again enrolled from the University, and Oxford studies again began
to languish. In 1805 these were vigorously attacked by Sydney Smith
in the ‘Edinburgh Review,’ and vigorously defended by Mr. Copleston,
afterwards Provost of Oriel, himself among the foremost of University
reformers. While the country was engaged in its desperate struggle
with Napoleon, the ‘class system’ was being quietly introduced, and
supplying a new incentive to industry. The political animosities
which had agitated the University in the last century had completely
died out, but it is certain that Oxford was profoundly affected by
the anti-Jacobin panic which set in after the French Revolution and
lasted for a whole generation. It is, however, some proof of a latent
inclination to moderate Liberalism among Oxford graduates that in 1809
Lord Grenville was elected Chancellor after a contest with Lord Eldon.
On the other hand, the sympathies of the University on all ‘Church
and State’ questions were identical with those of George III. So far
back as 1810 a petition was presented against Catholic Emancipation,
and when Robert Peel was elected member for the University in 1817,
it was fully understood that he was to oppose the Catholic Claims.
In 1829, the University Convocation reaffirmed its reprobation of
these claims by a solemn vote. Peel resigned his seat, and upon a
new election was defeated by Sir Robert Inglis. In a like spirit the
University petitioned in 1831 against Parliamentary Reform, in 1833
against the Irish Church Temporalities Bill, and in 1834, with only
one dissentient, against the grant of a charter to the new London
University. No doubt, in this last case the instinctive hostility of
Churchmen to a non-religious academical body was quickened by a less
honourable jealousy of a rival institution to be invested with the
power of granting degrees. In spite of the Oxford protest, the charter
was granted at the close of 1836, and in the following year a similar
privilege was conferred upon Durham University.
[Sidenote: Reception of the Allied Sovereigns. Abolition of the Mayor’s
Oath]
Two other incidents in University life during this somewhat obscure
period deserve a passing notice. In 1814 Oxford was enlivened by the
famous visit of the Allied Sovereigns, when Blucher was received with
enthusiastic plaudits in the Sheldonian Theatre. Had the loyalty of the
University been doubtful, the Prince Regent must have been reassured
by the fervent display of it on this occasion; but these royal visits
had lost their significance when the adhesion of Oxford ceased to be
a factor in Imperial politics, and the subsequent receptions of Queen
Adelaide and Queen Victoria, though almost as hearty as that of Queen
Elizabeth, were tributes of respectful homage and not of political
devotion. In 1825 the mayor and bailiffs of Oxford were released by
a document under the University seal from the penance laid upon them
after the great riot on Scholastica’s Day in 1354, when they were
required, as we have seen, to attend St. Mary’s Church yearly with
sixty leading citizens, to celebrate a mass for the souls of the
murdered scholars, and to offer one penny each at the altar. No sooner
was the Sacrifice of the Mass forbidden in the reign of Elizabeth
than the citizens hastened to give up this annual appearance, but
were compelled to resume it by an Order of Council, a litany being
substituted for the mass. The whole ceremony was now abolished; but
another grievance of earlier origin still remained, and was not
finally removed until the year 1859. By the letters patent of Henry
III., already mentioned, dated 1248, the mayor and bailiffs, on taking
office, were directed to swear that they would keep ‘the liberties and
customs of the University,’ the Chancellor having been previously
informed, in order that he might witness the oath personally or by a
deputy. This obligation, though it may have been sometimes evaded,
does not seem to have been disputed for more than six centuries. In
1855, however, the mayor and corporation requested the University to
dispense with the oath. The University at first demurred, but after
friendly conferences gave its sanction to a Bill for abolishing the
oath, upon condition, however, of its being once more taken by the
mayor and sheriff for the last time. In 1859 this Bill, introduced at
the instance of the City, but with the concurrence of the University,
was passed into law, and the standing feud so long maintained between
these ancient corporations was thus brought to an amicable conclusion.
The harmony which has since prevailed between the authorities of the
University and the City may have been partly due to other causes,
but it has certainly been promoted by the disuse of a humiliating
formality, well calculated to revive the memory of barbarous violence
on one side and invidious pretensions on the other.
FOOTNOTES:
[16] See Chapter XVII.
CHAPTER XVII.
OXFORD STUDIES AND EXAMINATIONS IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
[Sidenote: Examination Statute of 1800 and later amendments]
‘The studies of the University were first raised from their abject
state by a statute passed in 1800.’ Such is the testimony of the
Oxford University Commissioners appointed in 1850, and it is amply
confirmed by University records. The Laudian system was doomed to
failure from the first, inasmuch as it provided no security for the
capacity of examiners or against their collusion with the candidates,
while these were animated by little fear of rejection and no hope
whatever of distinction. The statute of 1800, for which the credit
is mainly due to Dr. Eveleigh, then Provost of Oriel, was directed
to cure these defects. That it was regarded as a vigorous attempt to
raise the standard of degree examinations is proved by the fact that
in 1801, the last year of the ‘old system,’ the number of B.A. degrees
suddenly rose to 250, largely exceeding the average of degrees and
even of matriculations in several preceding years. The new statute was
deliberately based on the Laudian system, in so far as it presupposed
an inherent supremacy in the faculty of Arts, and it was unconsciously
based on the old mediæval curriculum of Trivials and Quadrivials, in
so far as it specified grammar, rhetoric, logic, moral philosophy,
and the elements of mathematics—with the important addition of Latin
and Greek literature—as the essential subjects of examination. But it
effected a grand reform in the method of examination. Candidates were
to offer themselves either for what has since been known as a ‘pass,’
or for Honours, and the Honour-list was to be divided into two classes,
in which the names were to be arranged in order of merit. There was
also to be a further examination for the M.A. degree, comprising higher
mathematical subjects, history, and Hebrew; while candidates for the
B.C.L. degree were to be examined in history and jurisprudence, besides
the subjects required for the B.A. degree. Moreover, the examiners were
thenceforth to be paid by salary, and chosen by responsible officers
to serve for considerable periods. They were solemnly charged to
deliberate maturely and secretly on the merits of the candidates,
_sepositis omnino amicitiâ et odio, timore ac spe_. Material changes
were introduced into this system by statutes of 1807, modified again
in 1809, 1825, 1826, and 1830. The general effect of these changes
was to substitute, in the main, written papers for oral questions, to
establish two stated times in the year for examination, to subdivide
the list of honours into three classes, to relegate mathematics to a
‘School’ by itself, to abrogate the examination for the M.A. degree,
and to make the Greek and Latin languages, philosophy, and history,
the staple of examination in what now came to be called the _Literæ
Humaniores_ School, though permission was given to illustrate the
ancient by modern authors. Meanwhile, the old scholastic exercise of
Responsions _in Parviso_ was replaced by an elementary examination,
bearing the same name, to be passed in the second year.
[Sidenote: Examination Statute of 1850 and later amendments]
Such was the Oxford examination-system when it was transformed afresh
in 1850, by a statute which has been amended and extended by many
supplementary measures. A ‘First Public Examination,’ popularly known
as ‘Moderations,’ was interposed between Responsions and the final
examination for the B.A. degree, thenceforth officially designated
the ‘Second Public Examination.’ This intermediate examination, in
which honours are awarded, was specially designed to encourage and
test a scholarlike knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages, ancient
history, philosophy, and logic being mainly reserved for the Final
Classical, or _Literæ Humaniores_, School. The Honour School of
Mathematics was retained, and two new Schools were established, the one
for Natural Science, the other for Law and Modern History. This last
School was afterwards divided into two schools, of Jurisprudence and
of Modern History, respectively, while a sixth Honour School was added
for Theology. Until the year 1883, two examinations were held annually
in each of the six Honour Schools, but in and since that year one only
has been held, and that in Trinity Term. Two examinations, however,
continued to be held annually for candidates seeking an ordinary
degree, and these ‘pass examinations’ were subdivided into several
branches, for the purpose of securing a tolerable degree of proficiency
in more than one subject of study.
[Sidenote: University Commission of 1850]
The important examination statutes of 1850 were in contemplation, but
not yet in operation, when a Royal Commission was issued, on August
31, in that year, ‘for the purpose of inquiring into the state,
discipline, studies, and revenues’ of the University and colleges.
The report of this Commission is the most comprehensive review of the
whole University system which has ever been published. It recommended
various important reforms, of which some were effected by an Act of
Parliament enacted in 1854, and others through Ordinances framed by
executive commissioners, therein appointed, for the several colleges.
In 1850, the sole initiative power in University legislation, and by
far the largest share of University administration, was still vested
in the ‘Hebdomadal Board,’ consisting solely of heads of colleges with
the two proctors, and described by no unfriendly critic of Oxford
institutions as ‘an organised torpor.’ The assembly of resident and
‘regent’ Masters of Arts, known as the ‘House of Congregation,’ still
existed for the purpose of granting degrees, but its other business
had dwindled to mere formalities. The University Convocation included,
as ever, all Masters of Arts, resident or non-resident, and had the
right of debating, but this right was virtually annulled by the
necessity of speaking in Latin—all but a lost art—and Convocation
could only accept or reject without amendment measures proposed by
the Hebdomadal Board. No student could be a member of the University
without belonging to a college or hall, while every member of a college
or hall was compelled to sleep within its walls, until after his third
year of residence. Persons unable to sign the Thirty-nine Articles were
absolutely excluded, not merely from degrees, but from all access to
the University, inasmuch as the test of subscription was enforced at
matriculation. Nevertheless, college fellowships were further protected
against the intrusion of dissenters by the declaration of conformity
to the liturgy required to be made under the Act of Uniformity. If
professorial lectures were not at so low an ebb as in the days of
Gibbon, they were lamentably scarce and ineffective. The educational
function of the University had, in fact, been almost wholly merged in
college tuition, but the scholarships, as well as the fellowships, of
the colleges were fettered by all manner of restrictions, which marred
their value as incentives to industry. The great majority of fellows
were bound to take Holy Orders, and the whole University was dominated
by a clerical spirit, which directly tended to make it, as it had so
long been, a focus of theological controversy.
[Sidenote: Act of 1854 and new College Ordinances]
Though several of the wise and liberal measures recommended by the
Commission of 1850 were postponed to a more convenient season, a
profound and most beneficial reform was wrought in the whole spirit
and working of the University system by the Act of 1854, and the
College Ordinances framed under its provisions. The Hebdomadal Board
was replaced by an elective Council, on which Heads of colleges,
professors, and resident Masters of Arts were equally represented.
A new ‘Congregation’ was created, embracing all resident members of
Convocation, and soon became a vigorous deliberative assembly, with the
right of speaking in English. The monopoly of colleges was broken down,
and an opening made for ulterior extension by the revival of private
halls. The professoriate was considerably increased, reorganised, and
re-endowed, by means of contributions from colleges. The colleges
were emancipated from their mediæval statutes, were invested with new
constitutions, and acquired new legislative powers. The fellowships
were almost universally thrown open to merit, and the effect of this
was not merely to provide ample rewards for the highest academical
attainments, but to place the governing power within colleges in the
hands of able men, likely to promote further improvements. The number
and value of scholarships was largely augmented, and many, though not
all, of the restrictions upon them were abolished. The great mass of
vexatious and obsolete oaths was swept away, and though candidates for
the M.A. degree and persons elected to fellowships were still required
to make the old subscriptions and declarations, it was enacted that
no religious test should be imposed at matriculation, or on taking a
bachelor’s degree. The University itself had supplemented the extension
of its curriculum and examination system by the foundation of a new
museum specially consecrated to natural science. The permanence of this
extension was, however, additionally secured by a clause introduced
into the College Ordinances, whereby it was directed that fellowships
should be appropriated, from time to time, for the encouragement of all
the studies recognised by the University.
[Sidenote: Effect of these reforms]
Other salutary changes naturally grew out of this comprehensive reform,
and far greater progress was made by the University during the thirty
years immediately following it than in any previous century of its
history. The impulse given to education reacted upon learning and
research; Oxford science began once more to command the respect of
Europe; the professoriate received an accession of illustrious names;
and college tuition, instead of being the mere temporary vocation of
fellows waiting for livings, gradually placed itself on the footing
of a regular profession. Instead of drying up the bounty of founders,
as had been confidently predicted, the reforms of 1854 apparently
caused the stream of benefactions to flow with renewed abundance.
Nearly all the older colleges have extended their buildings, mostly
by the aid of private munificence, a new college has been erected,
bearing the name of the Rev. John Keble, and Magdalen Hall has been
refounded, under its original name of Hertford College, with a large
new endowment, provided by Mr. C. Baring. Meanwhile, a new class of
‘unattached’ or ‘non-collegiate’ students has been created, the number
of which rose to 284 in the year 1880, though it has since manifested
a tendency to fall. The aggregate strength of the University has been
doubled within the same period of thirty-two years, and the net total
of undergraduates in residence has been swelled from about 1,300 to
upwards of 2,500, and the annual matriculations have increased in a
like proportion.
[Sidenote: Abolition of University Tests]
The relaxation of the ‘classical monopoly’ and the opening of
scholarships was supplemented, in 1871, by a still more important
reform—the complete abolition of University Tests, already reduced
by the Act of 1854. This great concession to religious liberty was
brought about by a persistent movement chiefly emanating from the
Universities themselves. In the year 1862 a petition was presented from
74 resident fellows of colleges at Cambridge, praying for a repeal
of the clause applicable to fellowships in the Act of Uniformity. In
the year 1863, a petition was presented from 106 Heads, professors,
fellows, ex-fellows, and college tutors at Oxford, praying for the
removal of all theological restrictions on degrees. In the year 1868, a
petition against all religious tests, except for degrees in theology,
was signed by 80 Heads, professors, lecturers, and resident fellows
at Oxford, while a similar petition was signed by 123 non-resident
fellows and ex-fellows. In the same year a petition to the same effect
was signed by 227 heads and present or former office-holders and
fellows of Cambridge. Separate petitions, specially directed against
the declaration of conformity, were presented by Trinity and Christ’s
Colleges at Cambridge. Supported by the whole Nonconformist body and
by the Liberal party in Parliament, these efforts were ultimately
successful. The contest in Parliament lasted no less than nine years,
and one Bill after another was defeated or withdrawn, but in 1871 the
abolition of University Tests was adopted as a government measure and
accepted by the House of Lords. Experience has not justified the fears
of its opponents, and neither the religious character nor the social
peace of the University has been in the slightest degree impaired by
the admission of Nonconformists to its degrees and endowments.
[Sidenote: Local examinations, and board for examination of public
schools]
But the impulse given to academical education by the legislation
of 1854 is not to be measured solely by the internal growth of the
University, now accessible to every class in the nation. Since that
period it has initiated and carried out two educational movements of
national importance, the one in concert, the other in friendly rivalry,
with the University of Cambridge. The first of these was the scheme of
local examinations for pupils of middle-class schools, established by
a statute passed at Oxford in 1857, afterwards adopted by Cambridge,
and now exercising a regulative influence on middle-class education
throughout England. The examination of public schools by a joint-board
representing the two Universities was originated in 1873, and was
doubtless facilitated by the fear, then prevalent, of State-inspection
being applied to endowed schools. At these examinations certificates
are granted, which, under certain limitations, carry with them an
exemption from Responsions at Oxford, as well as from a part of the
‘previous examinations’ at Cambridge, and of the military examinations.
Such certificates may be regarded as supplying the rudiments of a
missing link not only between secondary and University education, but
also between secondary and professional education.
[Sidenote: Commission of inquiry (1872) and Act of 1876]
In the meantime, a new wave of democratic sentiment in Parliament
impelled Mr. Gladstone to issue, in January 1872, a commission to
inquire into academical property and revenues, as a preliminary step
to further legislation. The functions of this commission were strictly
limited to investigation and to matters of finance, no power being
entrusted to it either of passing judgment on the actual application of
University and college funds, or of suggesting a better application of
them—much less of entering on general questions of University reform.
These questions were destined to be reopened, and a fresh appropriation
of academical endowments to be made, by the Conservative Government
which came into office in the spring of 1874. At this period the
system established by the Oxford Reform Act of 1854, and the executive
commission thereby appointed, had barely taken root, but a vigorous
agitation was already in progress against it, mainly on the ground that
it had done too much for educational competition and too little for
learning or research. The principle upon which a fresh commission was
now demanded was not so much the expediency of redistributing college
revenues for the benefit of the colleges themselves, as the expediency
of diverting them from the colleges to the University, especially
in the interests of Natural Science. The Marquis of Salisbury, as
Chancellor of the University and an important member of the government,
heartily espoused these claims, and introduced a Bill expressly
designed to enrich the University at the expense of the colleges.
[Sidenote: Commission of 1877]
This Bill was passed, with some amendments, in 1877. Its preamble
recited the expediency of making larger provision out of college
revenues for University purposes. It proceeded to institute an
executive commission, armed with sweeping powers of revision and
legislation; but, as a safeguard for the interests of colleges, it gave
each college, not indeed a veto upon the statutes to be framed, but a
share in framing them, by means of elected representatives, associated
_pro tempore_ with the commissioners. It further enjoined that in
assessing contributions on colleges, regard should first be had to the
educational wants of the college itself. Accordingly, the commissioners
sat for several years, and elaborated an entirely new code both for
the University and for the colleges, repealing all previous college
statutes or ordinances, but leaving the legislative constitution of
the University untouched. They charged the colleges with an aggregate
subsidy of 20,000_l._ and upwards for the endowment of professorships
and readerships or lectureships, the contributions of wealthy colleges
being fixed on a higher scale than those of poorer colleges. By the
same process they set free a certain amount of University income for
such objects as the maintenance of buildings and libraries. They
regulated the payment, duties, and appointment of professors and
readers, as well as the nomination of University examiners, which had
been subjected to much criticism. They made some approach towards
an organisation of University teaching, by grouping studies roughly
under Faculties, and giving ‘Boards of Faculties’ a certain limited
control over the distribution of lectures. They formulated extremely
minute rules for the publication of University and college accounts.
They remodelled the whole system of college fellowships, attaching
the greater number of them to University or college offices, but
retaining about one hundred sinecure fellowships, terminable in seven
years, with an uniform stipend of 200_l._ a year, and subject to no
obligations of residence or celibacy. With certain exceptions, they
abolished all clerical restrictions on fellowships or headships, but
regulated various details of college management and tuition which the
former commissioners had left in the discretion of each governing body.
They established an uniform standard of age and value for college
scholarships, requiring, as a rule, that no candidate should have
exceeded nineteen, and that no scholarship should be worth more than
80_l._ annually. They also provided for the appropriation of any surplus
revenues which should accrue, to college or University purposes.
[Sidenote: Character of last reforms]
It is too soon to pronounce a judgment on the effect of these reforms,
some of which have not yet come into full operation, and which have
been supplemented by incessant changes in the examination statutes,
made by the University itself. Indeed, notwithstanding the bold
amendments which it has undergone, the constitution and educational
system of the University must be regarded as still in a state of
transition. It has ceased to be a mere aggregate of colleges, but
it has not ceased to be essentially collegiate in many parts of its
organisation, and the dualism of the professorial and tutorial systems
has been perpetuated. Professorships have been freely created, but
attendance on their lectures has not been made obligatory, and it
has been found easier to provide them with salaries out of college
revenues than to provide them with audiences at the expense of college
lecturers. The number of necessary examinations has been increased,
and many obstacles have been thrown in the way of persistent idleness;
but the door of the University has not been closed against complete
ignorance by an effective entrance examination, and a dunce ignorant
of his letters may still matriculate and reside, if he can find a
college to admit him. The student is free to choose his Final School,
and, unless he chooses the Classical School, he may abandon Latin
and Greek, in any case, after Moderations. But a minimum proficiency
in these languages is still necessary for Responsions as well as for
Moderations, several alternatives for which have been offered with an
utter disregard of symmetry or equality between studies. Women have
been admitted to certain University examinations, but not to all, nor
on the same terms as men; and the names of those who obtain honours are
published in a class-list, but not the ordinary class-list. Religious
equality has been established for most purposes, but not for all, and
the Faculty of Theology maintains its exclusive connection not only
with the Anglican Church but with the Anglican clergy. Such are some of
the anomalies which have been left to adjust themselves by successive
commissions and successive groups of University legislators. They have
not proved inconsistent with a vigorous internal life, but while they
exist and continue to be multiplied, the University cannot be said to
have attained a state of stable equilibrium, nor can a poetical unity
be imparted to an historical narrative of recent University reforms.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE NEO-CATHOLIC REVIVAL, KNOWN AS THE ‘OXFORD MOVEMENT.’
[Sidenote: Character of the ‘Oxford Movement’]
The great Neo-Catholic Revival of the nineteenth century is so
intimately identified with Oxford that it came to be widely known as
the ‘Oxford Movement.’ It was less important than Methodism in its
purely moral aspect, since it was far less popular and practical,
leaving no such profound impression upon the religious life of the
nation. On the other hand, it exercised a more powerful influence on
Anglican theology, since it wore a more scholarlike garb, was more
attractive to cultivated and imaginative minds, allied itself with
the speculative and historical spirit of the age, and purported to be
essentially constructive or reconstructive. It had from the first a
centre, and solid base of operations, in the University, with branches
stretching far and wide, wherever zealous Churchmen were found. The
assaults of Methodism upon religious apathy in high places had been
more in the nature of guerilla warfare; those of ‘Tractarianism,’ as it
came to be called, assumed the character of a well-organised campaign.
[Sidenote: A reaction against the rising tide of Liberalism]
Whatever may have been the aims of its leaders, the Oxford Movement
was in truth a reaction, and its real origin must be sought in
political rather than in ecclesiastical causes. The question of
Catholic Emancipation, which had been stifled at the Union, was revived
in 1812 and fiercely debated for the next seventeen years. The measure
was equally opposed by the High and Low Church parties in the Church,
but carried in 1829 by a Tory Government in deference to political
exigencies. It was followed by the Reform Act, and in 1832 the reformed
Parliament assembled, with a large majority, not merely Erastian,
but hostile to the National Church. The vote of the bishops on the
Reform Bill had exposed them to popular obloquy; Lord Grey himself
had openly threatened them, and the press was full of attacks on
Episcopacy and the Establishment. Lord Grey’s Act for suppressing ten
Irish bishoprics was regarded as the first outburst of the gathering
storm; timid Churchmen trembled for the very existence of their Church,
and the Oxford Movement was set on foot with the deliberate purpose
of defending the Church and the Christianity of England against the
anti-Catholic aggressions of the dominant Liberalism.
[Sidenote: Oriel the centre of the Movement]
The University of Oxford was the natural centre for such a
reaction. The constitution of the University and colleges was
semi-ecclesiastical; the Heads were clerical dignitaries; nearly all
the fellows were bound to be in Holy Orders. Among the colleges,
Oriel then held the first rank, both as a place of education, and
as the home of a speculative and learned society among the fellows.
Copleston, its last Provost, had been a man of remarkable capacity, and
he was ably seconded by such colleagues as Davison and Whately. The
system of tuition at Oriel was the best in Oxford, and as it was the
first college to throw open its fellowships, it was able to attract
the ablest of the young graduates. It was known that Oriel fellows
were selected not merely on the evidence of the class-list, or by the
results of competitive examination, but also by a discriminating,
though arbitrary, estimate of their social qualities and probable
intellectual development. They were, therefore, a select body, somewhat
inclined to mutual admiration, producing little, but freely criticising
everything. The result was an Oriel school of thought, commonly known
as the _Noetics_, who applied an unsparing logic to received opinions,
especially those concerning religious faith, but whose strength lay
rather in drawing inferences and refuting fallacies than in examining
and settling the premisses from which their syllogisms were deduced.
Still, Oriel fostered a bright and independent intellectual life of its
own; the Oriel school was a standing protest against the prevailing
orthodoxy of mere conformity, and it became the congenial head-quarters
of the Oxford Movement.
[Sidenote: John Henry Newman]
Pusey and Keble were among the fellows of Oriel, when John Henry Newman
was elected to a fellowship in 1823, and later, in 1826, became tutor
in succession to Jelf. Newman’s early life at Oxford was a solitary
one. He did not seek friends, and in the Oriel common-room his shy
and retiring nature sometimes concealed his real power. As Wesley’s
sympathies were originally with High Church doctrines, so Newman’s
were originally with Evangelical doctrines; he was connected with the
Evangelical set at St. Edmund Hall; he was for a time secretary to
the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and he actually helped
to start the ‘Record’ newspaper. In the early development of his ideas
he owed much to the robust intellect of Whately and the accurate
criticism of Hawkins, who succeeded Copleston as Provost in 1827. But
his reverence was reserved for Keble, whose ‘Christian Year’ appeared
in the same year and gave the first secret impulse to the Movement, of
which Newman became the head. In the following year, Pusey, then little
known to Newman, returned to Oxford as Professor of Hebrew and Canon of
Christchurch, unconsciously destined to give his own name to Newman’s
followers.
[Sidenote: Origin of ‘Tracts for the Times’]
At this period Newman had no intention of heading the Oxford Movement,
still less of founding a new party in the Church. His Evangelical
principles were gradually falling away from him, and he was girding
himself up for a great struggle with Secularism as represented by a
Liberal Government, but the first steps in the Tractarian agitation
were not taken by him. In 1832 he travelled in Italy with his friend
and pupil, Richard Hurrell Froude; and it was from him that Newman
imbibed his veneration for the Virgin and the Saints, his antipathy to
the Reformation, and his respectful toleration of the Roman Catholic
Church. They went so far as to inquire upon what conditions they would
be allowed to communicate in that Church, but were repelled on hearing
that a subscription to the decisions of the Council of Trent would be
required. It was during Newman’s absence abroad, in July 1833, that
Keble preached his Assize Sermon on ‘National Apostasy,’ which may be
said to have struck the first note of the Movement, and in the same
year Peter Maurice sounded the alarm against ‘Popery in Oxford.’ A
series of ‘Tracts for the Times’ was projected at a conference, also
held during Newman’s absence, by a small body of his friends, but the
plan was matured at subsequent conferences in Oriel, where Newman was
present, and Keble warmly supported it in letters of advice to which
the utmost deference was paid. The proposed aim of these Tracts was
expository rather than controversial; they purported to enlighten the
prevailing ignorance on Church principles and Church history. They were
to appear anonymously, and each writer was to be responsible only for
his own production. The difficulty of maintaining this principle of
limited liability was foreseen from the first, and prudent friends of
the Movement were in favour of a judicious censorship, but Newman was
inflexible, and his will prevailed.
[Sidenote: Association formed]
The immediate outcome of these Oriel conferences was the formation of
an association designed to rally all friends of the Church against the
common enemy. This was the signal for which zealous Churchmen had been
waiting, and it met with an enthusiastic response in all parts of the
country. An address to the Archbishop of Canterbury was drawn up and
signed by eight thousand of the clergy, insisting upon the necessity
of restoring Church discipline, maintaining Church principles, and
resisting the growth of latitudinarianism. A large section of the
laity ranged themselves on the side of the revival. Meetings were held
throughout England, and the King himself volunteered a declaration
of his strong affection for the National Church, now roused from its
apathy, and prepared to defend itself vigorously, not merely as a true
branch of the Catholic Church, but as a co-ordinate power with the
State.
[Sidenote: Newman assumes the lead]
Newman had returned from Italy deeply imbued with the conviction that
he had a definite mission to fulfil. He was no less firmly assured of
the need for individual action at this juncture than impelled to it
by his own self-reliant nature. While others, therefore, were urging
combinations and committees as the best methods of working, Newman’s
strong individuality revolted from joint control, especially in the
form of a ‘Committee of Revision,’ and pressed him forward to strike
the first blow for himself. He took counsel with Froude alone, when,
in the autumn of 1833, he suddenly brought out the first of that
series of Tracts from which his party derived its familiar name of
Tractarians. In so doing he took his own colleagues by surprise, and
precipitated the crisis destined to result from the publication of
the Tracts. From that day forth he was the recognised leader of the
Tractarians. No one among them was equally fitted for that position.
Keble was too modest and studious by disposition, Pusey was not an
original pioneer of the movement, Froude was disqualified by delicate
health. Newman stepped naturally into the place. The influence which
he gained in his own college as a tutor, and in the University as a
preacher from the pulpit of St. Mary’s, had drawn round him a band of
followers; his sympathetic character won the confidence of young minds;
his confessions of speculative doubt added weight to his acceptance
of dogmatic authority. Yet the secret of his personal ascendency was
never fully revealed to himself, nor did he ever fully realise the
impression produced by his sermons. To him the Tractarian Movement was
‘no movement, but the spirit of the times.’ He felt himself, not the
leader of a new party, but a loyal son of the old Church; now awakened
from her lethargy. He claimed no allegiance and issued no commands. It
was through friends and disciples, as we learn from himself, that his
principles were spread, and, as in the case of Socrates, their reports
of his conversations were perhaps the main source of the spell which he
exercised over the University and the Church.
[Sidenote: Spread and objects of the movement. Publication of Tract XC.]
The adhesion of Pusey in 1835 was a great accession of strength to
the Tractarians. He had contributed a Tract to the series in December
1833, but he did not formally join the Movement until a year and a
half later. His learning, social connections, and official position
gave it a certain dignity and solidity in which it had been lacking.
Recruits now offered themselves in abundance, and gifted young men
spent their days and nights in poring over materials for the Library of
the Fathers originated by Pusey, or in journeying from place to place,
in the spirit of the Methodist Revivalists, though in the pursuit of a
very different ideal. But the influence of Tractarianism over Oxford
thought must not be exaggerated. While it fascinated many subtle and
imaginative minds of a high order, and gathered into itself much of
the spiritual and even of the intellectual life of the University,
there were many robust intellects and earnest hearts which it not only
failed to reach but stirred into hostility. If it would be easy to draw
up an imposing list of eminent Oxford men who became Tractarians,
it would not be less easy to enumerate an equal number of equally
eminent men who consistently opposed Tractarianism, and predicted
that it must lead to Romanism. Nothing was further from the original
intentions and expectations of Newman himself. His object was to revive
the usages and doctrines of the primitive Church; to co-operate,
indeed, with the Church of Rome, so far as possible, but to keep aloof
from its pernicious corruptions; to establish the catholicity of the
Anglican Church, but, above all, to hold the _via media_ laid down
by its founders. His faith in Anglicanism was first disturbed in the
Long Vacation of 1839 by his supposed discovery of a decisive analogy
between the position of the Monophysite heretics and that of the
Anglican communion. Still, though he was gradually assimilating the
doctrines, he rebelled against the abuses and excesses, of the Roman
Church. Anglicanism as a distinctive creed had become untenable to him,
but he clung to a hope that its title might be lineally deduced from
the primitive Church, instead of being founded on a secession from the
Church of Rome. It was in this frame of mind that he published Tract
XC. in the year 1841, for the purpose of showing that the Articles of
the English Church were directed, not against the doctrines of the
Church of Rome as interpreted by the Council of Trent, but against
earlier heresies disavowed by that Council.
[Sidenote: Collapse of Tractarianism, and secession of Newman]
This Tract brought the Movement to a climax. It was received with a
storm of indignation throughout the country. The bishops delivered
charges against it, the great mass of Churchmen regarded it as an
attack on the Protestant Establishment, and a direct invitation to
Romanism. The Bishop of Oxford intervened, and the farther issue of
Tracts was stopped. Henceforth the real tendency of Tractarianism was
disclosed, and its promoters were hopelessly discredited. Newman found,
to his own great surprise, that his power was shattered. He retired,
during Lent 1840, to his parish at Littlemore, entrusting St. Mary’s
to a curate, in view of his possible resignation. His loyalty to the
English Church wavered more and more as he renewed his study of the
Arian controversy, and his misgivings were intensified by the hostile
attitude of the bishops, as well as by an incident which to a secular
mind would have appeared trivial—the institution of the Jerusalem
bishopric on a semi-Anglican and semi-Lutheran basis. His resignation
of St. Mary’s in the autumn of 1843, two years after the publication of
Tract XC., was due to an impulse of despondency on failing to dissuade
a young friend from conversion to Romanism. After preaching his last
sermon there he retired into lay-communion, giving up all idea of
acting upon others, and turning all his thoughts inwards. Two years
later, on October 8, 1845, his remaining difficulties being removed,
he was himself received into the Church of Rome, and finally left
Oxford early in the following year. Though his defection had long been
foreseen, it caused a profound shock throughout the English Church.
The first panic was succeeded by a reaction; some devoted adherents
followed him to Rome; others relapsed into lifeless conformity; and the
University soon resumed its wonted tranquillity.
[Sidenote: The ‘Hampden Controversy’]
The ‘Hampden Controversy,’ in 1836, may be regarded as an episode of
the Tractarian revival, already in full course of development. This
controversy arose out of Dr. Hampden’s Bampton Lectures on Scholastic
Philosophy, delivered in 1882, which, however, had attracted little
attention until he was appointed Regius Professor of Divinity four
years later. No sooner was this appointment known, than an anti-Hampden
Committee was formed, of which Pusey and Newman were members. The
Crown was actually petitioned to recall its nomination, but this
petition was coldly rejected by Lord Melbourne, and a vote of censure
on Dr. Hampden, proposed by the Hebdomadal Board, was defeated in
Convocation by the Proctors’ joint-veto—a very unusual, but perfectly
constitutional, exercise of the Proctorial authority. A war of
pamphlets ensued, and the vote of censure being reintroduced, after a
change of Proctors, was carried by an overwhelming majority. According
to the opinion of eminent counsel, the proceeding was illegal, as
transgressing the jurisdiction of the University under the Charter of
1636, but the sentence was never reversed, and Dr. Hampden remained
under the ban of the University, excluded from various privileges of
his office, until his elevation to the See of Hereford in 1847. The
opposition to him then broke out afresh, and the Dean of Hereford, in
a letter to Lord John Russell, held out a threat of resistance to the
Royal _congé d’élire_. The answer of Lord John Russell was such as
might be expected, but thirteen bishops supported the Dean’s protest
by a remonstrance, which Lord John Russell met by a peremptory refusal
to make the prerogative of the Crown dependent on the caprice of a
chance majority at one University, largely composed of persons who
had since joined the Church of Rome. Nevertheless, a final attempt was
made to negative the ‘confirmation’ of Dr. Hampden’s appointment at Bow
Church. An argument on this point in the Court of Queen’s Bench ended
in a dismissal of the case, owing to differences of opinion among the
judges, and on March 25, 1848, Dr. Hampden was duly consecrated Bishop.
[Sidenote: Proceedings against Pusey and Ward]
On the other hand, while Newman was in retirement at Littlemore, Pusey
was suspended from preaching in the University pulpit for two years, on
a report from a board appointed to examine a sermon delivered by him
at Christ Church, in which he was alleged to have affirmed the Real
Presence in a sense inconsistent with the doctrines of the Church. Soon
afterwards, Dr. Hampden, as Regius Professor of Divinity, inhibited
from his B.D. degree a candidate who had declined to be examined by
him on Tradition and Transubstantiation. The right of examination was
challenged by the candidate, but upheld by the Delegates of Appeals,
to whom the question was referred. On November 20, 1844, Mr. Ward,
a fellow of Balliol, was summoned before the Vice-Chancellor, and
questioned respecting the authorship of a book entitled ‘The Ideal of
a Christian Church.’ A war of pamphlets ensued, but in the end, on
February 13, 1845, a proposition was submitted to Convocation, densely
crowded with non-residents, condemning Ward’s doctrines as inconsistent
with the Articles, with his subscription thereto, and with his own good
faith in subscribing. This resolution was carried by a large majority,
and a further resolution, for the degradation of Ward, was carried by
a smaller majority. A third resolution, condemning Tract XC., had been
appended, but was negatived by the joint veto of the Proctors. It had
actually been intended to subjoin to the first resolution a declaration
annexing a new sense to subscription, and thus creating a new test, but
this addition was ultimately withdrawn in deference to a legal opinion,
which also denied the validity of Ward’s deprivation.
[Sidenote: Effect of the ‘Oxford Movement’]
With these proceedings the academical history of the Tractarian
Movement may properly be closed, though many distinguished members of
the University joined the Church of Rome at a later period, especially
after the celebrated judgment in the ‘Gorham Case,’ establishing
liberty of opinion on Baptismal Regeneration. For several years after
Newman’s conversion, the progress of the Neo-Catholic Revival was
arrested, and when it took a new departure under the name of Ritualism,
it ceased to draw its inspiration from the University of Oxford.
Nevertheless, the work of Newman and his fellows left its mark on
the University as well as on the English Church. The effect of his
speculative teaching was infinitely weakened by his own conversion to
Rome, but the effect of his practical teaching could not be dissipated.
In the widespread restoration of churches, in the improvement of
church-services, and in the greater energy of religious life within the
Anglican communion, we may still recognise the influence for good which
emanated from the Oriel common-room.
[Sidenote: Controversy on the Endowment of the Greek Professorship.
Defeat of Mr. Gladstone in 1865]
Thirty years after his own suspension, Dr. Pusey, now regarded as a
champion of orthodoxy, came forward with certain other Doctors of
Divinity, to bring a charge of heresy against Mr. Jowett, of Balliol,
the Regius Professor of Greek, who had contributed to the volume called
‘Essays and Reviews.’ A suit was instituted in the Chancellor’s Court,
and on February 6, 1863, a judgment was delivered by Mr. Mountague
Bernard, as assessor. This judgment disallowed the defendant’s protest
against the jurisdiction of the Court in spiritual matters, or over
a Regius Professor; but, in effect, arrested the proceedings without
deciding the case on its merits. A somewhat undignified controversy
followed, and greatly disturbed the peace of the University, on
the question of increasing the very meagre endowment of the Greek
Professorship—a measure which Dr. Pusey opposed on the sole ground
that it would strengthen the position of the existing Professor. The
partisanship engendered by the long struggle on this question divided
the senior members of the University into hostile camps, and often
determined their votes on matters which had no connection with the
subject. At last, on February 18, 1865, a compromise was effected, by
accepting the offer of Christchurch to endow the Professorship. The
University, in truth, was heartily sick of the controversy, and even
the High Church residents were unwilling to please the non-resident
clergy by perpetuating an apparent injustice which damaged their own
credit with the abler students. In the following summer, Mr. Gladstone,
who had been elected Member of Parliament for the University in 1847,
and whose seat had been contested at every subsequent election, was
defeated by Mr. Gathorne Hardy. This event established the supremacy of
the Conservative party in the constituency, and, though a contest took
place in 1878, the result was never doubtful, and the fierce passions
incident to constant trials of political strength have sensibly died
away. Thus, two fruitful sources of academical discord were removed
within a few months of each other. The last twenty-one years have
witnessed many warm discussions and close divisions in the University
legislature, but they have been mainly on academical issues, and have
seldom been embittered by the _odium theologicum_. Since 1865, a tacit
_concordat_ has prevailed between the two great schools of thought in
Oxford, and a philosophical toleration of opinion has superseded the
intolerant dogmatism, not confined to one party in the Church, which
had its origin in the Neo-Catholic Revival.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE UNIVERSITY IN 1886
[Sidenote: Reign of Queen Victoria]
The last chapter of University history covers a period within living
memory, and practically coextensive with the reign of Queen Victoria.
Its main interest consists in the rapid succession of theological
controversies which have agitated the academical mind, and in the
series of internal reforms dating from 1850. Both of these subjects
have been separately considered, but it still remains to review briefly
the strange transformation wrought in the various aspects of University
life within the lifetime of the present generation, not so much by
external interference as by the natural growth of new social conditions.
[Sidenote: State of the University on the Queen’s accession]
On the accession of Queen Victoria the college-system was already
established on its present basis, and effective University examinations
had put an end to the licensed idleness of the eighteenth century.
But the University and the colleges were still governed respectively
by antiquated codes of statutes, which it would have been no less
disastrous than impossible to enforce strictly, but from which, as we
have seen, it required the intervention of the Legislature to release
them. Though a considerable number of able students destined for the
Bar were attracted by scholarships and the prospect of fellowships,
Oxford was still mainly a clerical and aristocratic seminary,
exercising a very slight influence on the scientific or commercial
world, and little affected by their fashions. Until it was connected
with the metropolis by railway, it retained the distinctive character
of a provincial town, and many eccentric recluses of a type now
obsolete were still to be found in college rooms, who had never entered
a London club or drawing-room. The whole authority of the University
was, in fact, exerted to keep the railway at a distance, and the
Oxford branch was not opened before June 12, 1844. Though Oxford was
much frequented by visitors in the summer term, not without injury to
continuity of study, its atmosphere was still essentially academical,
if not scholastic, and the conversation as well as the social tone of
its residents, both graduates and undergraduates, differed sensibly
from those of their contemporaries in the metropolis and elsewhere.
Oxford Dons had not altogether lost the traditional characteristics
of their class; the model Oxford first-class man, assuming to have
mastered classical literature, Greek philosophy, and ancient history,
which he regarded as the staple of human knowledge, was accused of
exhibiting the pride of intellect in its purest form; young priests of
the new ‘Oxford School’ assuredly carried sacerdotal presumption to its
logical extreme; and the chartered libertinism of ‘fast men’ in one or
two Oxford colleges sometimes brought scandal on the whole University.
No doubt the habits of Oxford ‘collegians’ fifty years ago would have
compared favourably with those of their grandfathers, still more with
those of the squalid but industrious students who begged their way to
the University in the Middle Ages. Nevertheless, hard drinking and its
concomitant vices were by no means obsolete, even in common-rooms,
and though undergraduates cultivated the manners of young gentlemen,
their ordinary moral code was probably but little above that which then
prevailed in the army and the navy. Side by side, however, with the
self-indulgent circles of undergraduate society, there was a limited
set deeply impressed by the ascetic teaching of the Neo-Catholic
school, whose practical influence on its disciples resembled in many
respects that of the Evangelical school at Cambridge, however different
in its theological basis. The prevailing narrowness and intensity of
theological opinion was perhaps favoured by the narrowness of the
University curriculum. Classics and mathematics retained a monopoly
of studies; few wasted time on modern languages, history, or natural
science; while music and art in all its aspects were regarded by most
as feminine accomplishments. Since professors were very scarce,
and tutors (being fellows) were unable to marry, family life and
social intercourse with ladies had no place in an University career.
The members of each college associated comparatively little with
‘out-college men,’ in the absence of clubs, debating societies, and
other bonds of non-collegiate union. Rowing and cricket were vigorously
cultivated by young men from the great public schools, and hunting
was carried on, especially by noblemen and gentlemen-commoners, with
a lordly disregard of economy; but for the mass of students there was
no great choice of games and recreations, at least in the winter.
Those who did not aspire to Honours, being the great majority, had
no occasion to read hard, and often lived for amusement only, since
there was an interval of full two years between Responsions and ‘the
Schools,’ unbroken by any examination. Those who read for Honours
generally read with a steadiness and singleness of purpose incompatible
with much attention to any other pursuit. Various as these elements
were, they were readily assimilated by the University, which seldom
failed to leave a distinctive stamp upon one who had passed through it,
and Oxford culture retained a peculiar flavour of its own.
[Sidenote: Influence of recent changes]
In the course of the last fifty years, a profound though almost unseen
change has gradually passed over the face of the old University.
The introduction of representative government into the academical
constitution has not only cleared away many abuses, but has at once
popularised and centralised University administration. The recognition
of Unattached Students has broken down the monopoly of colleges; the
abolition of close fellowships has infused new blood and new ideas
into the more backward collegiate bodies; the spontaneous development
of numerous clubs and associations—athletic, literary, or political—has
created many new ties among undergraduates, and weakened the old
exclusive spirit of college partisanship. The ‘Combined Lecture
System,’ under which the inmates of one college may receive instruction
in another, has also favoured a division of labour among tutors which
is directly conducive to specialism in teaching. The great extension
of the professoriate, including the new order of University Readers,
and still more the liberal encouragement of new studies, has infinitely
expanded the intellectual interests both of teachers and of students;
the admission of Nonconformists and the progress of free thought have
powerfully modified theological bigotry; the multiplication of feminine
influences has undermined the ideal of semi-monastic seclusion, and
greatly increased the innocent æsthetic distractions which are the
most formidable rivals of the austerer Muses. The gulf between Oxford
society and the great world outside, never very impassable, has been
effectually bridged over in every direction. A very large proportion
of professors and college tutors have travelled widely; many are well
known in London as contributors to scientific and literary periodicals
or otherwise; while Oxford itself is constantly thronged with visitors
from the metropolis. In ceasing to be clerical and aristocratic, the
University has become far more cosmopolitan; all religions are there
mingled harmoniously, nor is it uncommon to meet in the streets young
men of Oriental race and complexion wearing academical costume.
[Sidenote: Present character of the University]
In the meantime, a marked and widespread reformation has been wrought
in the morals of the University, and notwithstanding the influx of
a large plebeian element, the manners of undergraduates have become
gentler as their tastes have become more refined. The ostentation of
wealth has been visibly diminished, and, notwithstanding the increase
of amusements, there is probably more of plain living and high thinking
in modern Oxford than in the Oxford of Charles II. or Elizabeth. The
University, it is true, has yet to harmonise many conflicting elements,
which mar the symmetry of its constitution; but it is becoming more
and more identified with the highest intellectual aspirations of the
nation as a whole. In ceasing to be the intellectual stronghold of the
mediæval Church, or the instrument of Tudor statecraft, or the chosen
training-school for the Anglican clergy, it may have lost something
of its ancient supremacy, but it has asserted its national character;
and it has perhaps never exercised a more widespread control over the
national mind than it possesses in these latter years of the nineteenth
century.
INDEX.
Abbeys in the neighbourhood of Oxford, 3, 50
Abbot, George, archbp. of Canterbury, 104, 108
Abelard, 4, 7
Abendon, Henry de, warden of Merton, 58
Abingdon abbey, 3;
outrage on the monks in 1327, 37
Academical life, _see_ Oxford University
Act of Uniformity passed in 1662, its application to College
fellowships, 152
Addison, Joseph, 179
Aldrich, H., dean of Christchurch, 164
Alfred the Great, alleged foundation of the University by, 1;
Asser’s biography of, 1;
foundation of University College attributed to, 4
All Souls college, _see under_ Oxford
Allied Sovereigns, reception of in 1814, 190
Anne, queen, visits Oxford 26 Aug. 1702, 164
Anselm, 4
Aristotelian philosophy, teachers of the mendicant Orders the leading
exponents of, 50
Aristotle, his _Natural Philosophy_, 4;
recognised as the supreme authority on rhetoric, logic, and all
three philosophies, 65
Arran, Earl of, becomes Chancellor, 167
Articles, Thirty-nine, subscription to, 92, 104, 173, 180;
the Three, 125;
the Six, 80
Arundel marbles presented in 1677, 155
Ashmolean Museum opened in 1683, 155
Asser, his contemporary biography of King Alfred, 1
Association formed in support of the Church, 208
Atterbury, F., dean of Christ Church, 165
Augustines, _see_ Monks and Friars
Austins’, or disputations, 49
Averroes, 4
Avicenna, 4
Avignon, 34
Bacon, Roger, 8;
liberal spirit of his teaching, 52
Bainbridge, John, 119
Balliol college, 15, 17
Basle, 57, 58
Beaumont palace at Oxford, 5, 6
Benedictines, 7, 49
Bentham, Jeremy, 179;
his objection to signing the 39 Articles, 180
Berkeley, bp., 183
Bernard, 4
Bible, authorized version of, Oxford scholars engaged in it, 103
‘Black Congregation,’ 66
Black Death, ravages of the, 37
Blackstone, sir Will., his professorial lectures, 180
Boarding schools, 3
Boccaccio, 28
Bodleian Library, 59-61; _see also_ Humphry, Duke
Bodley, sir Thomas, refounded the University Library in 1602, 95, 96
Bologna, 7, 16;
school of law in the University of, 4
Botanic Gardens, 116
Boyle, Robert, 154
Brasenose college, 74
Brent, sir Nathaniel, warden of Merton, 119;
chairman of the Parliamentary Visitors, 140
Buckingham, duke of, 107
Burke, Edmund, declines an honorary D.C.L. degree, 185
Burnet, Bp., 162;
his complaints of Oxford Toryism, 164
Button, Ralph, of Merton coll., 142
Cambridge, early secession of students to, 38;
the University less Jacobite than Oxford, 164
Canterbury college, 32
‘Cardinal College,’ _see under_ Oxford, Ch. Ch.
Carleton, George, bp. of Chichester, selected to represent England at
the Synod of Dort, 103
Carmelites, 50
Castle, Oxford, 2
Catholic emancipation, petition against, in 1810, 189
‘Chamber-dekyns,’ or unattached students, 22, 23;
their disorderly conduct in early times, 22;
abolished by the statute of 1432, 22
Champeaux, William of, tutor of Abelard, 7
Charles I. visits Oxford in August 1636, 116;
marches into Oxford 1642, after the battle of Edgehill, 128;
is lodged at Christ Church, 128;
summons his so-called Parliament (at Oxford), in June 1644, 133;
orders special forms of prayer to be used in college chapels for
the success of his cause, 134
Charles II., his first visit to Oxford (1665), 156;
his second visit (1681), 157
Charlett, Dr., Master of University College, 182
Chaucer, Geoffrey, 28
Chesterfield, Lord, 176
Cheynell, F., 138
Chillingworth, William, 116
Christ Church, 75, 78, 128
Church, the, the foster-mother of the University, 3;
association formed in support of, 208, 209;
effect of the Oxford Movement on, 215
Cimabue, 28
Civil War, first events of, as affecting the University, 127;
last two years of, 132-134
Clarendon building and Press, 186-7
Clarendon, earl of, his evidence on the results of the Parliamentary
Visitation, 150
Classical lectureships founded, 78
Classics, become the staple of University studies after the
Restoration, 155
Cleveland, Barbara Villiers, Lady Castlemaine, afterw. Duchess of, 156
Coffee-houses, 150, 156
Coke, Edward, 106
Colet, John, 71
College disputations, 25;
gardens, 156;
leases regulated by Acts of 13 and 18 Eliz., 89, 90;
Ordinances framed under the University Reform Act of 1854, 196, 197;
their beneficial effects, 197, 198;
plate, 128, 132
Colleges, rise of, 15;
early Oxford Colleges not confined to one Faculty, 16;
a safe and well-regulated home to younger students, 24;
their superiority to lodging-houses or halls, 25;
Colleges and Chantries Act, 80;
leniency towards, 81-83;
regarded with favour as seminaries of classical learning, 82;
invested by Leicester with increased control of University
government, 90;
_see also_ Oxford Colleges and Halls
Collegiate system, perhaps borrowed from Paris, 16
Commission, Royal, issued 1850, 194, 195;
of inquiry, 1872, 200;
of 1877, statutes made by, 201;
the University as regulated by it, 203
Common-rooms at Oxford, the earliest at Merton coll. in 1661, 156
Commons, House of, assumes authority over the University in 1629, 109;
issues an order for the University (1641), 125, 126;
abolishes subscription to ‘the Three Articles,’ 125
Comprehension Scheme, 164
Conant, Dr., rector of Exeter, appointed vice-chancellor of the
University, 148
Constance, Council of, 58
‘Constitution Club,’ the, attacked by a Tory mob, 166;
the scene of a less serious political commotion in 1716, 168;
died out before the end of George I.’s reign, 169
Convocation of the clergy in 1382, 36
Convocation House, 116
Copleston, Bp., his defence of university studies, 188
Copredy Bridge, many Oxford scholars engaged at, 133
Corbet, E., 138
Cordova, 4
Corpus Christi college, 72, 73
Councils, 57
Cranmer, archbp., 80;
tried at Oxford, 84;
his recantation and martyrdom, 84, 85
Crimes of violence committed by scholars, 23
Cromwell, Oliver, visits Oxford in state, May 17, 1649, 144;
becomes chancellor in Jan. 1650, 145;
his liberal treatment of the University, 145;
resigns the chancellorship on July 3, 1657, 147;
his scheme for a new university at Durham, 148
Cromwell, Richard, elected Chancellor of the University, 1657, 148;
resigns the Chancellorship in 1660, 151
Dante, 28
Degrees, 65-67, _et passim_
‘Determination,’ 63
Disputations, 49, 181;
superseded by a system of public examinations, which soon become
ineffective, 115-117
Dissenters’ Toleration Bill, 1779, 173
Divinity School, 60
Divorce question, the (16th cent.), 75
Domesday book, silence of respecting the University, 2
Dominicans, 49
Dorchester Abbey, 50
Dort, Synod of, 103
Douay, Catholic seminary of, 94
Duppa, Brian, 119
Durham, University of, 148
Durham, William of, the institution founded by, not a college, but an
exhibition-fund to be administered by the University, 17
Earle, John, bp. of Salisbury, 119
Educational movement, the, sprung from the Reformation, popular
rather than academical, 69;
Reasons of this, 69
Edward III., King, charter granted to the University by, 47
‘Edwardine’ code, 81;
iconoclastic in its spirit, 81;
liberal in its dealings with Colleges, 81
Edwardine Visitors, _see_ Visitors
Eighteenth century, decay of University education in, 174, 175;
the dark age of academical history, 174;
contemporary evidence, 175, 176
Eldon, Lord, 176, 189
Elizabeth, Queen, accession of, in Nov. 1558, 87;
_see_ Visitation, Elizabethan;
literature of her reign not academical, 94;
actively patronised Oxford culture in the later part of her reign,
95;
her visits to Oxford in 1566 and 1592, 97, 98
‘Engagement,’ the, 144
‘English nation,’ at Paris, 8
Episcopacy, 123
Erasmus, his testimony to Oxford scholarship in 1497, 70, 71
Eton School, 70
Evelyn, John, 154, 155, 163;
visits Oxford in 1654, 149
Examination instituted for the B.A. and M.A. degrees in 1638, 177;
of Public Schools, Joint-Board for, 199
Examinations, Local (1857), 199;
under the Laudian Statutes, 114
Exeter college, 31
Eynsham, abbey of, 3, 50;
undertakes in 1219 to provide for poor scholars, 12
Fairfax, Lord, his conciliatory proposals to the University (1646),
135;
Fairfax and Cromwell visit Oxford together in state on May 17,
1649, 144
Fell, John, dean of Christ Church, 141
Fell, Mrs., 142
Fell, Samuel, 119
Flemmyng, Richard, bp. of Lincoln, his main object in founding
Lincoln College, to extirpate the Wycliffite heresy, 58
Fourteenth century, the most progressive in the history of the Middle
Ages, 27
Fox, Richard, bp. of Winchester, 72;
regarded as the founder of the professorial system, 73
Franciscans, 49, 51
Friars, _see_ Monks and Friars
Frideswide chest, the, for the relief of poor scholars, the earliest
form of corporate property held by the University, 12
Frideswide, St., _see_ St. Frideswide
Froude, Richard Hurrell, 207
Gentilis, Albericus, 97
George I., his accession received at Oxford with sullen
disappointment, 166;
sends a troop of horse to overawe the University, 167;
never deigned to visit Oxford, 170
George II., fulsome address presented to him by the Oxford
Convocation, 172
George III., with his accession Jacobitism disappears or fades into
Toryism of the modern type, 172;
his visits to Oxford, 172, 174;
his reply to the first loyal address from the University, 172
Gibbon, E., 176;
his estimate of the University, 177
Giraldus Cambrensis, 8;
publicly reads at Oxford his work on the topography of Ireland, 6
Gladstone, William Ewart, defeated in 1865 by Mr. Gathorne Hardy, 216
Gloucester, duke of, _see_ Humphry, the ‘good’ duke
Gloucester Hall, 49, 50
Goddard, Jonathan, Warden of Merton, 146, 154
Goodwin, Thomas, President of Magdalen coll., 146
Grafton, George Villiers, Duke of, born in Merton coll., 157
Grammar-schools and Halls, duties paid by, 13;
rise of, 94
Gratian, 4
‘Great Congregation,’ 67
‘Greeks and Trojans,’ the, 73
Grenville, lord, elected chancellor in 1809, 189
Grocyn, delivers the first public lectures on Greek (15th cent.), 70,
71
Grostete, Robert, bp. of Lincoln, 8, 9;
his life and influence in the University, 51
Hales, John, patronised by Laud, 116
Halls, duties paid by, 13;
unendowed, mostly hired from the citizens by clerks, 13;
number of, 13;
Principals of, sometimes illiterate and not of necessity graduates
until 1432, 22
Hammond, Henry, rector of Penshurst, 119;
removed from his canonry of Ch. Ch., 142
Hampden, John, 124
‘Hampden controversy,’ the, 212-214
Hampton Court conference, 104
Hardy, Gathorne, defeats Mr. Gladstone, 216
Hearne, Thomas, the Oxford chronicler, 175;
his evidence on the dominant Toryism of Oxford, 165
Henrietta Maria, queen, her reception and residence at Oxford (1643),
130
Henry I., lived much at Oxford and at Woodstock, 5;
built the palace of Beaumont, 5
Henry II., resided in the neighbourhood of Oxford, 6
Henry III., 9;
his charters granted to the University in 1244 and 1255, 14, 15
Henry VIII., founds five Regius Professorships, and refounds Cardinal
College, 78;
his protection of University endowments, 79
Henry, Prince, his death in 1612, 102
Hert Hall, 33
Hertford, Marquis of, Chancellor of the University, 133, 151
Hertford college, 182, 197
High Commission, 104
Holles, D., 124
Humphrey, Laurence, President of Magdalen, 88, 103
Humphry, the ‘good’ duke, Library presented by, 59;
initiates the erection of a Public Library over the Divinity
School, 60, 61;
the original collection consisted of 129 volumes only, 61
Hyde, Edw., _see_ Clarendon, earl of
‘Inception,’ statutable qualifications for, 64;
M.A. degree chiefly sought as a passport to, 65
Irnerius, opens a school of Law at Bologna, 4
Jacobite partisanship shared alike by ‘dons’ and undergraduates, 164
Jacobitism, gradual decline of in Oxford, during the reign of George
II., 170
James I., his patronage of the University, 101, 102;
visits Oxford (1605), 101;
his attitude towards the University and the Church, 102;
his gradual adoption of Arminian theories, 103
James II. (as Duke of York), not unpopular in the University, 158;
his outrages on University rights, 159;
his treatment of Magdalen Coll., 159
Jefferies, judge, 160
Jewell, bp., 83, 88
Jewry, attack on the, 15
John of Gaunt, 35
John of Salisbury, 5
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 176;
his appreciation of the College system, 181
Jones, Sir William, of Univ. Coll., 182
Jowett, Benj., Regius Professor of Greek, 216
Jurisprudence, Roman, cultivation of, 4
Juxon, William, 119
Keble, rev. John, 197, 206;
his ‘Christian Year’ appears in 1827, 207
Keble College, foundation of, 197
Kemp, John, 58
King, Dr. William, Principal of St. Mary Hall, his Jacobite appeal in
the Theatre, in 1754, 171
Lanfranc, 4
Langton, Stephen, 8
Latimer, Bp., 84
Laud, archbp., rise and influence of, 104-106;
his creed and policy adopted by the Court and the University, 106;
elected Chancellor in April, 1630, 109;
his chancellorship, 109-111;
his reforms of University and College discipline, 110;
his services to the University, 115, 116;
last five years of his Chancellorship, 116-119;
resigns the Chancellorship, June 26, 1641, 117;
his administration of the University attacked on his impeachment,
118
‘Laudian’ or ‘Caroline’ Statutes, compilation of, 111-113;
superseded, in many essential particulars, by the University Reform
Act of 1854, 112;
main provisions of, 113;
their oligarchical tendency, 113;
studies and examinations under, 114, 115;
question about the perpetuity of, 183
Lectures and examinations, final organisation of, in the 15th cent.,
61
Leicester, Robert Dudley, earl of, becomes chancellor of the
University in 1564, 88;
his administration, 89-93
Library, the earliest possessed by the University, 29;
_see_ also Bodleian Library and Humphry, duke
Linacre, Thomas, 71;
his posthumous foundation of two Readerships in Physiology at
Merton college, 72
Lincoln college, 58
_Literæ Humaniores_ School established in the present century, 193
Local examinations established in 1857, 199
Locke, John, his expulsion from the University, 159;
urges the King to reform the Universities, 162
Lodging-houses, 25
Lollardism, in 1411, 37
Lombard, Peter, his ‘Sentences,’ 7
London Committee, appointed to receive reports from the Parliamentary
Visitors, 140;
dissolved in April 1652, 145
Lowth, bp., his description of his academical life, 179
Macclesfield, lord, lord chancellor, his plan for controlling the
University through government patronage, 169
Magdalen bridge, 188
Magdalen College, 159-161
Magdalen Hall, _see_ Hertford college
Malmesbury, Lord, 176
Manners, University life and, before Colleges were planted, 20-22
Marsh (de Marisco), Adam, friend of Grostete, 52
Martyr, Peter, lectures of, 81;
his wife, 86
Mary, accession of, in 1553, ushered in a short-lived reaction, 83
Mason, sir John, elected chancellor in 1552, 88
Massey, John, 160
Meadowcourt, Richard, fellow of Merton, his Whig partisanship and
degradation, 168
Mendicant Orders, 49, 50
Merton college, _see under_ Oxford
Methodist Revival, the, 178
‘Moderations’ established by statute, of 1850, 193
Monasteries, the, dissolution of, contributing to depopulate the
University, 80
Monastic Orders, 35
Monks and Friars at Oxford, 48, _seqq._;
Augustinian canons at St. Frideswide’s, 48;
Augustinian Friars, settle in Oxford in 1251 or 1252, 49;
acquire almost a monopoly of grammar-teaching, 53;
Benedictines, 7, 49;
Benedictine monks of St. Frideswide, 48;
Carmelites, the, settle in Oxford in 1254, 50;
Dominicans, the, first appear in Oxford in 1221, 49;
Franciscans, the, settle in Oxford about 1224, 49;
owe much to the aid and patronage of Robert Grostete, 51;
Friars, protected by the Pope, 54;
position of at Oxford, and University statutes against them, 52-54
Mendicant Orders, rise of, 49, 50
Monmouth, Duke of, 159
More, Sir Thomas, 71
Music, cultivated at Oxford after the Restoration, 155
‘Negative Oath,’ 143
New College, 32, 33
New Inn Hall, 129
Newdigate, sir Roger, 173
Newman, John Henry, his early life and intellectual development, 206,
207;
his career and connection with the Oxford movement, 207-12;
is received into the Church of Rome, Oct. 8, 1845, 212
Non-Jurors, 163
Non-Regents, 66
Northampton, early secessions of students to, 38
Northern and Southern nations, encounters between them, 29, 37;
proctors of the University chosen from in 1343, 41
Nowell, Dr. Thomas, 173
Oath, Negative, 143
Occham, William of, 35;
challenges the supremacy of the Pope, 34
Orange, Prince of, his reception by the University (1734), 170
Oriel college, 31, 205
Ormond, duke of, his impeachment and resignation, 167
Oseney Abbey, 6, 50, 59, 78;
riot at in 1238, 14
Oxford City, a resort of students and a place of education before the
Norman Conquest, 2;
number of its monastic establishments, 2;
early schools of, 2, 3;
Henry I. lived much at, 5;
councils held by Stephen at, 6;
young scholars of, lodge in religious houses, 6;
murder of three students by townspeople in 1209, 9, 10;
penalties imposed by the Papal Legate, 10;
the Mayor’s oath imposed in 1248, 15;
pestilence in, 29, 37, 98;
riots in 1297 and 1354, 43-5;
agreement with Univ., 1298, 43;
further riots, 120;
interdict laid upon, 46;
penance done by the citizens of, 46, 47;
the Sheriff’s oath (1581), 99;
Parliament at, 107-109;
contribution for the King’s service, and first occupation by
Parliamentary troops, 126-128;
Charles I. marches into (1642), 128;
queen Henrietta Maria’s reception and residence at (1643), 130;
becomes Royal head-quarters during the Civil War, 129;
measures taken for its defence, 129;
ravaged by a great fire (1644), 133, 134;
Parliament summoned at (1644), 133;
first siege of (May, 1645), 134;
the siege hastily abandoned (June 5), 134;
second siege, and proposals of Fairfax guaranteeing University
privileges (1646), 135, 136;
surrender of (1646), 136;
Charles II.’s visit to (1665), 156;
and his visit (1681), 157;
Parliament assembled and dissolved at (1681), 157;
relieved from the penance on St. Scholastica’s day in 1825, and
from the ‘Mayor’s Oath’ in 1859, 190, 191
Oxford, Beaumont palace at, 5;
the birthplace of Richard I., 5;
Castle, the, embracing the Collegiate Church of St. George, 2;
Jewry, the, violent attack on, 15;
St. George within the Castle, Collegiate Church of, 2, 6;
St. Mary’s Church, 50, 60, 153;
School Street, 3, 59, 60
Oxford University, mythical origin of, 1, 2;
its alleged foundation by Alfred the Great, 1;
silence of Domesday book respecting, 2;
the Church its foster-mother, 3;
lectures of Vacarius about 1149, 5;
earlier lectures of Robert Pullen, 6;
Giraldus Cambrensis publicly reads at, in 1186 or 1187, 6;
not fully constituted in 1214, 11;
progress during reign of Henry III., 8, 9, 51;
fully constituted by the middle of the 13th cent., 12;
the early sources of its revenue, 12, 13;
early University charters, 14;
statutes in 1292, 17;
University life and manners before Colleges were planted, 20-22;
progress of, in the 14th cent., 27 _seqq._;
its intellectual vigour, 29-31;
its European influence, 33, 34;
conflicts between the University and the City, 43-46;
receives a new charter of privileges from Edward III., 47;
position of the Friars at, and University statutes against them, 52;
statutes restraining encroachments of the Friars, 53, 54;
decline in numbers and studies in the 15th cent., 55, 56;
its causes, 56;
revival of academical life at end of 15th cent., 68;
checked by the Reformation, 69;
its action on the questions of the Divorce and the Royal supremacy
(_temp._ Hen. VIII.), 75, 76, 77;
visitation of, in 1535, 77;
first effects of the Reformation injurious to, 79;
incorporation of, in 1571, 89;
Leicester’s administration of, 91-94;
depression of intellectual life in, 94;
increasing refinement of academical life, 96, 97;
the stronghold of Anglicanism, 99;
patronised by James I., 100-102;
declares its adhesion to the doctrine of Passive Obedience in 1622,
105;
number of students under Laud’s chancellorship, 116;
eminent members of, in the generation preceding the Civil Wars, 119;
University life in the generation preceding the Civil Wars, 120-122;
conduct during Civil Wars, 122-135;
conduct during Parliamentary Visitation, 141-9;
reception of Fairfax and Cromwell by (1649), 144;
state of, on the recovery of its independence, 149;
the Restoration and new Visitation of (1660), 151;
enjoys comparative repose under Charles II., 153;
extension of the University buildings, 153, 154;
decree of, adopting doctrine of Passive Resistance, 158;
publicly burned, 165;
conduct of, on the outbreak of Monmouth’s rebellion, 159;
its attitude towards the Revolution (1688-9), 162;
University politics between the Revolution and the accession of
George III., 162-74;
becomes a hotbed of Jacobite disaffection, 163;
a troop of horse sent to overawe it, 167;
government scheme for reforming it, 168-9;
accords an enthusiastic reception to the Prince of Orange, 1734,
170;
address from, on the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, rejected, 171;
George III.’s visits to, 172-174;
petitions (1799) against the Dissenters’ Toleration Bill, 173;
decay of University education in the 18th cent., 174-177;
statutes affecting the, 184;
visited in 1814 by the Allied Sovereigns, 190;
petitions against various reforms, 189;
Royal commission issued 1850, 194, 195;
University Reform Act of 1854, 112;
its main provisions, 196, 197;
College Ordinances framed under, 196, 197;
their beneficial effects, 197, 198;
University Reform Act of 1876, its object and main provisions, 200,
201;
state of on queen Victoria’s accession, 218-220;
influence of recent changes in, 220, 221;
its present character (1886), 222;
Chancellor, office of, 11, 12-42, 47;
Vice-Chancellor’s office, 26, 91-113;
Proctors, their office and authority, 26, 40-1, 91;
Proctorial cycle instituted, 109;
‘Congregation, Black,’ 66;
‘Congregation, Great,’ 67;
Convocation, University, 67;
Bodleian Library, 59-61;
Botanic Gardens, 116;
Clarendon building, 186;
Convocation House, 116;
Divinity School, the, 60;
Library, the earliest possessed by the University, 29. _See_
Humphry, Duke;
Radcliffe Library, Infirmary, and Observatory, 187;
Schools, the Old, 59;
Schools, the New, completion of, 106;
Sheldonian Theatre, erection of, 153;
Taylor Institution, 187;
University Press, 187
Oxford Colleges and Halls—All Souls College, 58-9, 147;
Balliol College, 15, 17;
Brasenose College, statutes of, 74;
Canterbury College, 32;
‘Cardinal College.’ _See_ Christ Church;
Christ Church, 75-8;
Charles I. lodged at (1642), 128;
Corpus Christi College, its foundation by bp. Fox, 72, 73;
Exeter College, foundation of, 31;
Gloucester Hall, occupied by Benedictines, 49, 50;
Hert Hall, 33;
Hertford College, statutes of, framed in 1747, 182;
Magdalen Hall, refounded under the name of, 197;
Lincoln College, founded, 58;
Magdalen College, foundation of, 59;
James II.’s treatment of, 159;
Magdalen Hall. _See_ Hertford College;
Merton College, 15, 18-20, 156, 181-2;
the model of all other collegiate foundations, 18;
New College, foundation of by William of Wykeham (1379), marks a
new departure in collegiate history, 32, 33;
New Inn Hall, mint established at, 129;
Oriel College, foundation of, 31;
the centre of the ‘Oxford Movement,’ 205;
Pembroke College, foundation of, 106;
Queen’s College, foundation of, 31;
St. John’s College, foundation of, 86;
St. Mary’s College, 71;
Trinity College, foundation of, 86;
University College, 15, 16;
myth attributing its foundation to Alfred, 2;
Wadham College, foundation of, 106.
_See_ also under Colleges
‘Oxford Movement,’ the, 204-17
Oxford, the see of, 78
Paris, University of, its origin and constitution, 7, 8;
a model of academical organisation for Oxford, 8;
decline of the, in the 14th cent., 33;
discredited by subservience to Pope John XXII., 33, 34;
migration of students from, 51;
curriculum and examinations of, in the Middle Ages, 62, 63
Parker, Archbp., policy of, 87, 88
Parliament, at Oxford, 108-9;
passes an ordinance, on May 1, 1647, for the visitation of the
University and Colleges, 140
Parr, Dr., his list of Oxford graduates in the 18th cent., 179
Passive Resistance, 158
Peel, sir Robert, his election in 1817 and defeat in 1829, 189
Pembroke, Philip, earl of, chancellor of the University, superseded
by the Marquis of Hertford, 132, 133, 139, 143
Pembroke college, 106
Peter the Lombard, 4
Petty, William, 154
Pitt, William, denounces Oxford Jacobitism, 171
Plate, College, 128;
loan of desired, 132
Pole, Card., visitation and reforms of, 85
Pope, the, defends the Friars, 54
Portland, Duke of, his installation, in 1793, 184
Prideaux, Humphrey, dean, 175
Proctors, and Proctorial authority, 26, 40, 41, 91, 109
Professorships, five Regius, founded and endowed by Henry VIII., 78
Prynne, William, 124
Pullen, or Pulleyne, Robert, 6, 8
Puritanism, growth of, in the University during the reign of James
I., 101
Pusey, Dr. Edw. Bouverie, 206, 210, 214, 216
Pym, John, 106, 124
Quadrivium, the, 4, 61
Queen’s College, 31
Radcliffe Library, Infirmary, and Observatory, 187
Railway, the Oxford branch opened 1844, 218
Raynolds, Dr., Warden of Merton, 87
_Rectores Scholarum_, 11
Reformation, academical life checked by, 69, 79
‘Regent’ Masters, 65, 66
Renaissance (the), its origin, 70
Residence for degrees in the higher faculties, 67
Responsions, 63
Restoration (the) and new Visitation of the University, 151
Revolution of 1688-9 quietly accepted at Oxford, 162
Rewley, the Cistercian Abbey of, 50
Reynolds, Edward, 138, 142, 152
Rich, Edmund, archbp. of Canterbury, 9
Richard I., born at Beaumont palace, 5
Richard of Armagh, loose statement of, as to number of scholars, 14
Richmond, Miss Stuart, afterw. Duchess of, 156
Ridley, Bp., burned, 84
Royal Commission of 1850, its report, 194, 195
Royal Society, holds its first meetings at Oxford, 154
Royal Supremacy, 75-77
Rupert, Prince, 117, 128, 136
Sacheverell, Dr., of Magdalen, his popularity, 165
St. Frideswide, monastery and schools of, 3, 48, 78
St. George within the Castle, church of, 2, 6
St. John’s college, 86
St. Mary’s Church, 50, 60, 153
St. Mary’s college, 71
Salerno, Univ. of, 7
Savile, Sir Henry, 95
Savilian Professorships, 107
School Street, 3, 59, 60
‘Schools of Oxford,’ the germ of the University, 3, 6
Schools, the ‘Old,’ 59;
the ‘New,’ 106
Schools of Paris, _see_ Paris
‘Sciences’ (the) in the 12th century, 4
Scott, sir William, his tutorial lectures, 180
Selden, John, 106, 119, 142
Shakspeare, William, 95
Sheldon, Gilbert, warden of All Souls, 119, 142, 152;
archbp. of Canterbury in 1663, Chancellor in 1667, 153;
founds Sheldonian theatre, 153
Six Articles, 80
Smith, Adam, his evidence on Oxford studies, 176
Smith, Sydney, his attack on University studies, 188
Smyth, Dr. Richard, 84
Somerset, the Protector, 80
Sorbonne, the, founded about 1250, 16
South, Dr. Robert, public orator, 154
Southern ‘nation,’ _see_ Northern and Southern nations
Sports, manly, _temp._ Charles I., 121
Stamford, ‘University’ at, 39, 40
Statutes made by Commission of 1877, 201
Stephen, King, held Councils at Oxford, 6
_Studium generale_, 3, 5
Studies, University, character of at various periods, 9, 61, 95, 114,
174-6, 191
Subscription to the 39 Articles, 92, 173, 180
Swift, Dean, 176
Taylor Institution, 187
_Tests_, University, 141;
abolition of in 1871, 198
_Terræ Filii_, 149, 154
Thirty-nine Articles, Subscription to, established by Leicester, 92
Three Articles, the, 104
‘Town and gown rows,’ 120
Tractarian Movement, contrasted with the Methodist Revival, 204-15
‘Tracts for the Times,’ origin of, 207;
publication of Tract XC., 210-212
Tresham, Dr. Will., canon of Ch. Ch., 87
Trinity college, 86
Trivials and Quadrivials, 4, 64
‘Trojans,’ and ‘Greeks,’ 73
Tutorial system in colleges, _temp._ Charles I., 121
Twelfth century, the, intellectual revival of, 3, 4
Twyne, Brian, 119
‘Unattached’ or ‘Non-Collegiate’ students, order of instituted, 197
Uniformity, Act of, 152
_Universitas literaria_, 3
Universities, rise of, throughout Europe in the 14th cent., 28;
_see_ ‘Oxford,’ ‘Bologna,’ and ‘Paris’
University college, 2, 5, 16
University Commission, 1850, _see under_ Oxford
University Press, 187
University Reform Act, 112, 196-201
University Tests, 198
Urban, Pope, bull of in 1368, 42
Vacarius, professor of Bologna, his lectures in civil law, 5
Victoria, Queen, review of University history during her reign,
217-222
Visitations of the University, 77, 80, 85, 87;
Parliamentary, 138-150, 151
‘Visitors’ Register,’ the, 144, 149
Volunteer corps, University, 159, 185, 188
Wadham college, 106
Wake, sir Isaac, his _Rex Platonicus_, 102
Wake, Archbp., 170
Walker, Obadiah, Master of University Coll., 160
Wallis, Dr. John, Savil. Prof. of Geometry, 154
Waltham, Harold’s college at, 15
Ward, Will. Geo., fellow of Balliol, condemned by the University
Convocation, Feb. 13, 1845, 214
Warham, Archbp., 111
Wesley, John, 181;
his sermon before the University in 1734, 171
Whigs, 158, 166
Whitelocke, Bulstrode, 142
Whitgift, archbp., 94
Wilkins, Dr. John, Warden of Wadham Coll., 146, 154
William III., deputation to, 162;
visits the University, 163
William of Durham, his bequest to the University, 16
Winchester College, 33, 70
Wolsey, Cardinal, 74, 75
Wood, Anthony, 1 _et passim_
Wren, Christopher, 150, 154
Wyclif, John, 28, 34-6, 55
Wykeham, William of, founds New Coll. (1379), 32, 33
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
Edinburgh & London
Transcriber’s Notes
pg 214 Changed sidenote: Proceedings against Pusey and War
to: Proceedings against Pusey and Ward
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