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.’