In June 1643 the King wrote again to the College, asking that some of its members should subscribe 4_s._ a week for a month for the support of soldiers: “we do assure you on the word of a king that this charge shall lie on you but one month.” Soon after this Laud resigned his Chancellorship in a touching letter from his prison, and in making his will showed the deepest attachment to the College where he “was bred.” Baylie, who was his executor, was not long suffered to remain in his post. The Parliamentary Commission which visited the University in January 1648 ordered that the President of S. John’s College, “being adjudged guilty of high contempt by denial of the authority of Parliament, be removed from” his office, “and accordingly the said Dr. Baylie is required forthwith to yield obedience hereunto, and to remove from the said College and quit the said place, and all emoluments, rights and appointments thereunto belonging.” They abolished the choral service, appropriating Sir William Paddy’s endowment to the increase of the President’s salary. These Commissioners, says Dr. Joseph Taylor, were men “in whom there was nothing lacking save religion, virtue, and learning,” and the oath which they required of the Fellows, for the sake of ejecting them when they refused it, was “as ridiculous as it was detestable.” In the place of the existing foundation they put as President Francis Cheynell, the zealot who had anathematized Chillingworth as he lay dying (a man, says Taylor, “non tantum fanaticus sed et furiosus”), and they filled the Fellowships with men collected anywhere and than the majority of whom “there could be nothing more ignorant or more abject.” Cheynell held the Presidency only two years, when he was obliged to make choice between it and a valuable living in Sussex. He was succeeded by one Thankful or Gracious Owen, a Fellow of Lincoln College, under whose rule the College languished in poverty and neglect until the Restoration, its property dissipated and its learning in decay.