whose meek soul sighed over the course pursued by his opponents, and the stormy character of the times in which his lot was cast, rose in the Assembly, and declared " that if their congregations might not be exempted from the power of the classes, if they might not have liberty to guide themselves in their own way, as long as they behaved peaceably towards the civil magistrate, they were resolved to suffer, or go to some other place in the world where they might enjoy their liberty. But while men think there is no way of peace but by forcing all to be of the same mind, while they think the civil sword is an ordinance of God to determine all controversies of divinity; and that it must needs be attended with fines and imprisonment to the disobedient; while they apprehend there is no medium between a strict uniformity and a general confusion of all things; while these sentiments prevail, there must be a base subjection of men's consciences to slavery, a suppression of much truth, and great disturbances in the Christian world."* The expression of these wise and beautiful sentiments by the oppressed Independent closed the debates of this fruitless Committee of Accommodation. The Assembly now dwindled away in point of numbers, sunk in public reputation, and declined in importance and influence, till, three weeks after the execution of Charles, they held, within the walls of the Abbey of Westminster, their last meeting, having completed their eleven hundred and sixty-third session. A few of the members, however, were constituted a Committee for examining and inducting ministers, who continued their office till they were broken up by the dissolution of the Long Parliament. *Neale's History, vol. iii. p. 309. CHAPTER VII. OXFORD UNDER OWEN. OXFORD was for a long period during the civil wars the head-quarters of King Charles. The city was fortified. The University became a garrison. The gownsman was transformed into the military cavalier, and doffed the college cap for the steel helmet. The streets echoed with the iron-heeled boot of the soldier and the tramp of the war horse. Many a waggon, laden with ammunition and military stores, and guarded by pikemen, came rolling over the bridges and through the gateways, which formed the inlets to that picturesque city. Valiant and loyal men— and numbers of the Cavaliers were both-there rallied round their sovereign in the hour of his need, prepared to fight his battles, and to die under his standard. The fortunes of the contest between him and his Parliament excited there the deepest feeling; every slight turn of fortune in his favor animated their hopes; every announcement of defeat-and such announcement often came-chilled, if it did not totally dispirit them. Amidst the excitement of the conflict, poor Charles there gathered round him the relics of his court, and strove to establish a Parliament which should rival the mighty one at Westminster. The Chapter-House at Christ Church was his council chamber. In the hall of that noble college he met the Lords and Commons who had identified themselves with his cause. It was but the mockery of royal state; the shadow of regal power. Charles had grasped at absolute monarchy, now he had lost all but the name of king. Armies composed of no common troops, commanded by no common generals, and on whose banners victory almost always waited, beleaguered the city of Oxford. That city made a stout resistance. It repelled the invader again and again. But at length Fairfax prevailed; and on Saturday, the 24th June, 1646, at noon, three thousand men, the surrendering garrison, might be seen marching out, under arms, along the road to Shotover Hill. During the whole period of the military occupation of Oxford, the University was in a most deplorable condition. Indeed, its literary character had almost entirely disappeared. Mars usurped the seat of Minerva. The schools were turned into granaries, the colleges into barracks, the butteries into shops for the sale of ale and beer to the garrison. Buildings fell into decay. Gothic halls and chambers were defaced and spoiled by a rude soldiery. Some were rented out to the townsmen as a source of revenue, and to prevent their falling into utter ruin. Books disappeared, to make way for, perhaps to purchase, fire-arms. College plate was melted down, and sold to procure pay for the royal army. Few persons connected with the University remained, besides heads of houses and professors. Lectures and exercises fell into disuse, except in St. Mary's Church, where a scanty remnant of under-graduates were wont to assemble. The character of these young men is painted by the Oxford historian in the darkest colors, and the state of morals among them must have been degraded indeed to draw such a description from his partial pen. What few students remained, he tells us, were much debauched, and become idle, bearing arms, and keeping company with rude soldiers; they were on guard night after night, and were addicted to gaming, drinking, and profanity. Some men who were of great wit at first, soon caught the prevalent spirit, and drowned their minds in habits of intoxication. They became lost and useless, and wrote songs, ballads, and other frivolous stuff.* The dilapidation of buildings, the poverty of the colleges, and the paucity of students, were the immediate effect of the civil wars; before which occurrence Oxford shone with the brightest external glory, numbering her four thousand scholars, among whom many a gentleman-commoner was distinguished by his costly doublet, glittering with silver or gold. But the moral character of the students during the siege appears to have been little more than a continuation of habits prevalent long before; for I find in the autobiography of Arthur Wilson, a student there in 1630, the following statement:-"That which was most burdensome to me in this my retirement was the debauchery of the University. For the most eminent scholars of the town, especially of St. John's College, (being of my acquaintance,) did work upon me by such endearments as took the name of civilities, (yet day and night could witness our madness,) and, I must confess, the whole time of my life besides did never so much transport me with drinking as that short time I lived at Oxford, and that with some of the gravest bachelors of divinity there."† Such was Prelatical Oxford. In this chapter the reader will see what it became under Puritan regimen. As soon as the University fell into the hands of the Parliament, they concerted measures for its reformation. They proceeded with prudence, and, in the first instance, sent down seven popular divines, to subdue, if possible, by argument and persuasion, the irritated feelings of the van * Wood's Annals of the University, edited by Gutch. † Peck's Desiderata Curiosa, vol. ii. p. 470. quished party. The attempt entirely failed. The antiPuritan prejudices of the Oxford men were only increased by the pulpit labors of the Presbyterian ministers. The Parliament then resolved to appoint commissioners to visit the colleges, to reform abuses, to enforce the submission of the University authorities, and to require all parties to take the Solemn League and Covenant, Certain divines and civilians of repute were employed in the commission. Their proceedings were sternly resisted by the vice-chancellor and the heads of houses. The authority of Parliament to interfere with the University was denied; the imposition of the Covenant was denounced. There were warm controversies, legal appeals, tumultuous scenes. The commissioners certainly conducted themselves with moderation; the University, on the other hand, did not treat them with common politeness. The former Chancellor, the Earl of Pembroke, who had been deposed by the Royalists, was now restored by the Parliament to his high office. On his public entrance to the city he was treated with the greatest rudeness, and the Oxford press soon teemed with pamphlets written by the college wits, and filled with vulgar abuse of the reinstated Chancellor. "The Owl at Athens," "Lunacy Rampant," "Lord have mercy upon us," the sign inscribed on the doors of houses infested with the plague, "The Pegasus, or Flying Horse from Oxford," were the titles of some of these jeux d'esprit. In the last mentioned of these, my Lord Pembroke is styled "a long-legged piece of impertinency," and in all of them he is abused in a strain of the lowest scurrility, and the most evenomed malice. "If," as Neale justly remarks, "the Puritans had published such pamphlets against the exorbitances of the High Commission Court in the late times, the authors or publishers must have lost their ears, as the Brownists did their lives in the latter end of Queen |