Читать книгу A Great Grievance - Laurence A.B. Whitley - Страница 11

By the time of King James’ death in 1625, thirty–nine of Scotland’s fifty–four chief religious houses had been erected into temporal lordships. It was a practice which continued to cause deep dismay to the General Assembly and it repeatedly asked the king to stop it.1 The main cause of their annoyance was almost certainly a fear that such dismemberment would make the task of financing the Church yet more complicated.2

However, there was another ground for their concern. This was that, in the relationship between patrons and church, the secularization process was allowing greater license to the former to exploit what they could at the latter’s expense. Particularly vexing was that the state appeared ready to support patrons when they overreached themselves. One example was a complaint that surfaced at the 1598 Assembly3 concerning a loophole which patrons had been exploiting in the law against simony. Although Parliament had, in 15844, listed it as a crime, a grey area arose where presentees promised, once installed, to grant the patron a tack of the parochial teinds. Since the tack would invariably be at a rate lower than the teinds’ true value, the profits accruing to the patron thereafter could be considerable. The patrons successfully defended themselves against the charge of simony by claiming that the practice could only be considered simoniacal if what was paid to the incumbent did not provide a sufficient stipend. Presbyteries were thus put in a frustrating position. They could not but refuse collation to someone who was clearly involved in a disreputable arrangement, yet in the eyes of the law the presentation was still orderly. This meant that if they refused to proceed, the patron was now entitled to uplift the teinds indefinitely,5or at least until the presentation was either accepted or withdrawn. To crown all, not only did James ignore the Assembly’s complaint about the loophole, but actually gave it legislative validity in 1612.6

There were other ways in which patrons were allowed to stretch the law in order to transform an opportunity into a right. One was the anomaly whereby landowners assigned to themselves the rank of patron, when their entitlement was, in fact, spurious. Thus, whereas it was in order for temporal lords to assume presentation rights to patronate churches (where solely the patronage belonged to the former prelacy), there was little justification for their taking the title of patron to patrimonial churches in their possession. In the latter case, the old religious house, chapter or bishop had been the occupant of the benefice, and, on their behalf, a vicar served the cure, for which he received a stipend out of the tithes. Thus, the new landowner had, in effect, succeeded to the role of titular, and as such, he could hardly be the patron at the same time, since the incumbent was his stipendiary, not his presentee.7 Nonetheless, the new lords often simply awarded themselves the status of patron, and then were careful to have the fact recorded in any subsequent charters.

Thus it was that with every passing year, the possibility—if it ever existed— of lay patronage being removed from the Scottish parochial landscape grew ever more impracticable. A century that began with a land owning class that was relaxed about ownership of the privilege ended in a very different atmosphere. Nonetheless, such were the twists and turns of the Crown’s relations with the Kirk over the ensuing fifty years, suddenly abolition returned, not just as a possibility, but a reality. In order to understand how the change came about, it is important to look briefly at the strategies employed by James and his son Charles as they sought to mould church and state to their liking.

James’s Ecclesiastical Policies, 1592–1625

Frustrations over patronage were only part of a wider picture of discomfort experienced by the Kirk, as the king, almost as soon as he had granted its 1592 “Charter of Presbyterianism,” devoted the remaining years of his reign to doing what he could to include episcopacy in the Scottish ecclesiastical structure.8 It was a task that he saw as even more vital on his departure to London after the Union of the Crowns in 1603. Since this ambition raised the question whether the presbytery or the bishop should then vet presentations, and settle vacancies jure devoluto, it is necessary to see how events unfolded as the king set about achieving his aims.

James saw parity among ministers as “the mother of confusion,” and advised his son, that by “preferment to bishoprics and benefices . . . ye shall not only banish their parity (which I can not agree with a monarchy) but ye shall also re-establish the old institution of three estates in parliament, which can do no otherwise be done.”9 Pursuing the latter aim first, James passed an Act, in 1597, allowing such ministers as he should nominate to bishoprics, abbacies or other prelacies, to have a seat and vote in Parliament.10 The first appointees were in place by the end of 1600.

He had now to strengthen the bishop’s ecclesiastical authority, and having enacted legislation, in 1606, asserting his royal prerogative in all matters11 and re-establishing the episcopal office, he went on, in 1609, to restore consistorial jurisdiction to bishops and, by now, archbishops. At the Assembly convened at Glasgow in June 1610, the rights and privileges of the episcopate were agreed, laid down as Acts of Assembly, and later confirmed, with modifications, as Acts of Parliament. Among these rights it was stipulated that all presentations were now to be directed to diocesan bishops or archbishops, who could also fill benefices jure devoluto. Moreover, the bishop was to make final “trial” of any candidate, and, having found him suitably qualified, ordain him, assisted by such of the ministers as he chose to invite.12 Up until 1610, presbyteries had become the customary recipient of presentations. Now this practice was swiftly turned around. Indeed, from March onwards, well before the Glasgow Assembly, presentations were, in every case, given exclusively to bishops and archbishops13. By an act of 1617,14 James saw to it that cathedral chapters had their traditional revenues restored, and thus finalized his work on re-establishing episcopacy in the Scottish Church.

Although he was unable to show the same sure-footedness when it came to effecting liturgical changes,15 as far as his remolding of the Kirk’s polity was concerned, James had cause to be satisfied with those ecclesiastical ambitions which had been realized by the time of his death in 1625. His son Charles’s diplomatic failings were to do spectacular damage to all James had built up, but it must be admitted that there had been signs that James’ authority was not invulnerable. His insistence on pushing the Five Articles of Perth through the Assembly in 1618, and Parliament in 1621, won him little favor. At all levels of Scottish society, the Articles, or at least some of them, bore for many the savor of popery.16 Again, although James’s large financial demands upon Parliament in 1621 were voted through, there is no doubt that these contributed to a souring of attitudes towards him on the part of both merchants and landowners during the final years of his reign. By the time of his death in 1625, there were ample signs that Scotland’s quiescence could not be taken for granted: “The convergence of fiscal demands and religious change was an explosive mix, and one that would return to destroy Charles I.”17

Charles I (1625–1649)

One important ingredient in the fateful mix was teind reform. Charles would have known that this was an issue of particular sensitivity to patrons, yet it did not prevent his alienating many. The reform was part of the package which came to be known as Charles’s Revocation Scheme. The background to the scheme was a principle that had emerged out of the minorities which had plagued the Stewart monarchy in previous centuries. The idea was that a new king, provided he acted before his twenty–fifth birthday, could annul grants of property (and heritable offices and pensions) made during his minority. In a declaration made within four months of his accession, Charles twisted this concession in order to suggest he was entitled to a revocation of all royal grants since 1540. It is probable that the king’s basic goal was to make a timely demonstration of his overarching supremacy, and that he had, in fact, no intention of undertaking a wholesale annexation.18 Be that as it may, the arrogant presentation of the announcement, and Charles’s continuing lack of diplomatic savoir faire, ensured that a sense of hostility and distrust was ineradicably sown amongst the nobility.

Although a key aim of the project (ratified by Parliament in 1633) was the boosting of crown income, the king’s desire was also to redistribute the teinds so as to put the funding of poor relief, schools, colleges and ministers on a sound footing. For both ministers and heritors, this part of the scheme was something of a breakthrough, in that the situation that had evolved under James VI, had often bred confusion over who owned the teinds as well as contention over the amount due to minister or titular. Now, in a way that reiterated the vision of the first Book of Discipline, each landowner or heritor would have his own teinds,19 subject to a proportion going to the parish minister as stipend. Teind redistribution was a slow and complex business, not least because, in every locality, a revaluation to a fixed amount, was first required. However, the machinery for establishing adequate stipends was at least in place, and it is clear that, by the late 1630s, most ministers were receiving a settled and satisfactory maintenance.20 However, King James had been sufficiently astute to know that any implementation of the Reformers’ ideal for ministerial funding could only be achieved at a high price in terms of goodwill among the landed interest, which was why, as a compromise, he had established a commission to review and upgrade inadequate stipends.21 When Charles rejected that piecemeal approach in favor of sweeping reform, he was moving onto dangerous ground.

It should be said that the teind structure was in need of revision, and the financing of Church, education and poor relief was, moreover, greatly advantaged by the plan, but the winning of even grudging acceptance for it from those who were most affected, was simply beyond the skills of Charles to achieve. Even the ministers, disappointed at the slow progress of the revaluation, showed scant appreciation.22 Indeed, notwithstanding their augmented stipends, any enthusiasm by churchmen for the new funding scheme was undermined by the knowledge that acceptance also meant abandonment of their cherished hope of having all the teinds restored to the Church’s use.23

Another cause of anger among the nobility was what Charles proposed to do about the ownership of former church lands. Many great families had made substantial gains, and, while they were to be allowed to hold on to their acquisitions (at a cost), it was the fate of the properties they had since sold off, which was to give particular affront. The king had seen that the lords continued to exert enormous influence throughout their localities, by the fact that they still remained the feudal superior of any alienated estate. Accordingly, Charles set about “liberating” these feuars, by stripping the nobles of their superiority and vesting it in the Crown instead. The king’s ostensible motive was to free the gentry/heritors from the dominance of the aristocracy, however, the latter saw it as a slight on their social position, as well as an attempt to lessen their power.

As for the gentry, if the king had hoped for gratitude in response to his policy, little was forthcoming. Not only did it become obvious to them that the king was more concerned to curtail the nobility than to promote their participation in government,24 but also it had become clear that the process of buying out their teinds from the titulars was fraught with difficulty and frustration.25 As a result, many became disenchanted.

The final element in the mix was in the ecclesiastical sphere. Here Charles’s actions attracted opprobrium at almost every level, including, yet again, the nobility. When he used his visit to Scotland in 1633 to push forward his wish for greater conformity with Anglican practices and apparel, the resultant petitions showed that a deep dislike for these and the (now reactivated) Five Articles of Perth was not lacking among the higher social ranks26. The same men of substance were also experiencing a mounting anger against the episcopate, not only at local level, where patrons complained their candidates were obstructed by the arbitrary imposition of an oath of obedience,27 but also in national government. There, the king had more and more been using the bishops as a means of imposing his wishes, and in this regard, their dominant role in the Committee of Articles (which controlled all legislation and parliamentary agenda) had been especially useful. Resentment increased when the bishops were perceived to have been instrumental in pushing on an unsupportable prosecution of Lord Balmerino for treason (1634–6). It mounted again when the archbishop of St Andrews, John Spottiswood, was made high chancellor in 1635, and even further when rumors abounded that abbeys and priories were to be retrieved from lay hands and restored to the clergy.28

The Revolution of 1637

When, in 1636, Charles published a code of canons for the Kirk to use, not only did it confirm high church practices, but appeared to give scant recognition to the authority of presbyterial courts. It also enjoined the use of a prayer book, which appeared the following year. Even though the book had not been sanctioned by Parliament or General Assembly, its use was insisted upon, purely on the strength of royal prerogative. On the 23 July 1637, the bishop of Edinburgh attempted to read from `This Popish-Inglish-Scotish-Masse-Service-Booke’29 in the pulpit of St Giles, whereupon, a riot broke out. In the aftermath of this disturbance, some of the discontent that had been rumbling now began to express itself through protest and petition. Eventually, the widespread opposition united around the momentous National Covenant, which was first signed in Edinburgh on the 28 February 1638. It was principally drafted by the advocate, Archibald Johnston# of Wariston, and the minister of Leuchars, Alexander Henderson#. Both were radical presbyterians, yet the document endeavored to be comprehensive, condemning neither the king nor, expressly, episcopacy, but rather appealing to the religious practices of the Reformation and calling for resistance to “popish” encroachments upon the Kirk’s liberty in forms of worship, doctrine and discipline. Patronage was not referred to, yet what was meant by discipline was soon to be the subject of earnest debate.

Charles at first determined to face down the protest, but his high commissioner, the Marquis of Hamilton, advised him that such was the universality of its support, concessions would have to be made. Accordingly, Hamilton announced, in September 1638, that the service book, code of canons, court of high commission and the Perth Articles were to be abandoned. Also a General Assembly was convened, at Glasgow, on the first of November. Presbyteries, for the first time, organized a large complement of elders to go up to the Assembly, most of whom were not ready for compromise. The result was that the Assembly’s enactments went much further than the terms of the Covenant had suggested: all Assemblies since 1605 were declared null, the service book, code of canons, high commission court and Five Articles were all condemned and episcopacy was abjured.

Since Charles had managed to alienate so many interests, the Covenant attracted support from all over the country, including the Highlands, although the Aberdeen area was a notable exception30. In the matter of leadership, the part played by the nobility and gentry was decisive, both in the Assemblies of 1638 and August 1639, and thereafter, in Parliament, which held its first session of the new era on 31 August 1639. Thanks only to their support, could the Covenanting agenda, including the abolition of episcopacy, be ratified by Parliament (June 1640), or at the same time military success be achieved in the “Bishops’ Wars,” first in the confrontation at Berwick (resolved June 1639), then at Newcastle (resolved, at London, August 1641). After the London treaty was ratified by the Scots Parliament, Charles gave it royal assent, thereby ostensibly giving legal recognition to the new regime. As a result, although expressions of dissent from moderates and royalists like the Marquis of Montrose prevented comprehensive unanimity, the Covenanting cause nevertheless ended 1641 in what appeared to be a strong and secure position. This being the case, it might well be wondered what had been happening meanwhile with regard to lay patronage. Was the time now ripe for the Kirk to revive the debate about its place, and perhaps even press for its abolition?

Lay Patronage and the Revolution of 1637–1639

When they reflected upon the revolution, presbyterians knew that the overthrow of episcopacy had been dependent upon the support of the higher social ranks. It was a debt the moderator of the 1638 General Assembly acknowledged in fulsome tones when delivering his closing speech:

And I must say one word of those Nobles whom Jesus Christ hath nobilitat indeed, and declaired sensiblie to be worthie of that title of nobilitie. Ye know they were lyke the tops of the mountaines that were first discovered in the deludge, which made the little valleyes hope to be delyvered from it also; . . . the Sun of righteousnesse hes beine pleased to shyne first upon these mountaines; and long, long may he shyne upon them, for the comfort of the hilles and refreshing of the valleyes; and the blessing of God be upon them and their families.31

The natural result of this obligation was that the presbyterian party were wary of antagonizing the aristocracy by declaring patronage a grievance much in need of reform. On the other hand, as will be seen, it was not an issue that was about to go away, and it is illuminating to note how some of the leading figures in the Kirk struggled to reconcile the demands of diplomacy with the desire of the Second Book of Discipline to terminate patrons’ presentation rights.

The most valuable insights into contemporary attitudes to patronage are found in the papers of Robert Baillie# (1599–1662), who was minister of Kilwinning (Irvine presbytery) until his appointment to the chair of divinity at Glasgow university in 1642. Baillie was a man of moderate principles, and appears as someone who was happiest “straddling to some degree the divide between presbyterian and Episcopalian.”32 This stemmed more from open–mindedness than the desire to trim, and made him willing, on issues like royal authority and episcopacy itself, to modify his views according to the merits of the situation. His opinions on the subject of patronage, however, remained consistent during the period of the revolution, and these were that, although it might be good to give the topic of reform a public airing, the time was “not seasonable,” and to do so would only stir up difficulties, especially with the king, as largest patron.33

Despite its boldness in other matters, the Glasgow Assembly of 1638 shared Baillie’s circumspection. According to Johnston of Wariston, the Assembly avoided making subscription to the Second Book of Discipline compulsory, purely in order to avoid raising “scrouples anent teynds and patronages.”34 Instead, while avoiding any objection to presentations, it simply required that “there be a respect had to the congregation, and that no person be intruded . . . contrare to the will of the congregation.”35 The issue of patronage would not, however, lie down, but instead surfaced for debate at the Assembly of 1639. Alarmed at the damage any prolonged confrontation on the matter would do to the presbyterian cause generally among the landed interest, Johnston hurriedly intervened to emphasize that no harm was intended against the rights of patrons, and he prevailed upon the Assembly not only to affirm that this was their view, but also to express their gladness that parliament had recently ratified “the Act of Parliament 1592, quhairin Laick Patronages ar expreslie reserved.”36

Interestingly, Johnston’s intervention failed to reassure the king’s commissioner to the Assembly, John Stewart, first Earl of Traquair, who felt sufficiently worried to enter a minute in the registers of the Privy Council, disassociating himself from any hurt which might yet occur to the king’s patronal rights, and reserving the Crown’s right thereafter to seek redress.37 Almost certainly, Traquair saw that a popular, reforming movement like the one he was witnessing, would be difficult to control, and that the Covenanting leaders had put themselves in a particularly precarious position on the matter of presentations. On the one hand, they had been rousing the people to assert their spiritual liberty, while at the same time, they were asking them to refrain from challenging the continuation of a privilege like patronage, purely on the expedient that it was “maist convenient for the Kirk at this tyme to silence these questions, and tolerat many thingis (quhairof they wald faine haiff redres) for the setling of the substantiall Governement of this Kirk.”38 Traquair would have seen it as inevitable that those less able to discern the diplomatic niceties of the situation would, eventually, break ranks. In the event, he was correct.

What became the focus of contention was whether or not the Covenant’s reference to the “discipline” of the Church, should be directly equated with what was laid out in the Second Book of Discipline. If so, it was a serious matter, for members of a congregation would therefore be in breach of their sworn allegiance to the Covenant, if they accepted a presentee who had not been elected by them. This was precisely the argument put forward by the people of Glassford (Hamilton presbytery), when they took an aversion to the patron’s choice for the vacancy there, and such was the anxiety it aroused in Baillie, he wrote, in 1639, for help to Johnston, who was legal adviser to the Assembly. On hearing that a similar scenario was unfolding in another parish, Johnston considered the situation serious enough for him to leave his sick-bed to make, as he saw it, a definitive statement of the Kirk’s position on presentations, before things got out of hand.39

Johnston of Wariston’s Statement

Johnston’s paper is lengthy, but it provides a remarkable insight into what the leading figure in the Church at the time was thinking, and is worthy of attention. Its salient points can be summarized:

(i). only fanatics could think of raising, unnecessarily, questions of national significance at a time when the Church is trying to settle after the recent upheavals;

(ii). swearing to maintain the Kirk’s discipline is not the same as maintaining the Book of Discipline; there has been no specific instruction for the book to be subscribed by congregations, and in any case, there are also other guides to doctrine and discipline contained in past Acts of Assembly, which the Kirk could equally refer to—indeed, where an Act and the book conflict, the Act is to be preferred; whatever the Books of Discipline might say, the clear thread of parliamentary legislation since 1560 has been to uphold the rights of patrons, moreover, the Assembly itself has virtually done the same; even the Assembly of 1581, which entered the text of the second Book in its registers, contradicted it soon afterwards, by recording a requirement for all presentations to be directed to presbyteries; repeatedly, in subsequent Assemblies, the language of the minutes seem to suggest that presentations are an accepted fact of life; in summation, it is obvious from observation and from Acts of Parliament and Assembly, that the practice suggested by the Book “hes never come in practise, is obsolet, and the contrarie thairof continuallie tolerated.”40

(iii). the complainers are mistaken about the form of the book; only the first ten chapters contain directives, and none of these expressly condemns patronage; in chapter eleven, abuses are complained of, and in chapter twelve, supplication is made to have matters like patronage reformed; however, the abandonment of presentations was only sought, not enacted; this means the Covenant oath can hardly apply to something that ought to be done, but only to matters which are actually enjoined;

(iv). the complainers are also mistaken about the book’s use of the word presentation; in present usage, a presentation is separate from collation and institution; in earlier times however, it is clear, from Acts of Parliament and Assembly, that a settlement by presentation meant it took place without any collation, admission or examination by the Church at all; this habit of patrons planting benefices pleno jure [with full authority], was an issue of great annoyance to the Church, as may be seen from the resolutions of Assembly from 1563 onwards; yet patronage per se was not condemned, indeed, surely someone whose presentation is directed to the presbytery, who is then tried before the congregation and admitted by the presbytery, cannot be said to be intruded upon that people; be that as it may, Johnston personally thinks that a presbytery should resist implementing a presentation where the people are unanimously averse to the candidate, and that, on the face of it, the congregation has a right of negation (which should not nullify a patron’s right of patronage any more than the presbytery’s limited power of veto does, since, after all, he can continue to present other candidates); on the other hand, if a parish’s opposition is obviously “of will, and not of witt,”41 then presbytery should regulate its obstinacy; in summation, he does not think patronage is incompatible with election— it is like a parent or guardian initiating a marriage for his ward; in such a situation, it does not matter who is the proposer of the match, as long as it proceeds on the basis of consent;

(v). if the complainers wish to invoke the Covenant, let them remember that by it they swore to eschew the type of dangerous and divisive conduct they are now pursuing, “quhairof treulie I know none so great as this war to putt the Nobilitie, Gentrie, and Ministrie, be the eares togider [i.e., at variance];”42 further, the Covenant binds them to seek, by all means lawful, to recover the purity and liberty of the gospel as was practiced before the recent novations, however, they should remember, (a), settlements without presentations were not established as a part of that liberty before now, and indeed, the opposite custom has been tolerated; “All that can be said, that it [abolition] was wishit for and supplicated for; and so aucht we to doe, even as much as they did, to compleine of the abuse, and supplicat superior poweris,”43 (b), it is for the Assembly or parliament to declare whether or not something is a corruption, before it can be said that the Covenant implies it should be abjured, (c), on such a national issue as this, it is not for individuals to question what the Assembly expressly allows, and they should properly be censured for it, and (d), for all their fervor, they are in fact only binding themselves “to recover that quhilk was never had, and so was never lost.”44

In conclusion, he hopes his statement will be used, not to defend patronage—for he will labor, by all lawful means, to free the Church from it—but only for removing the objections that the complainers have to it.

Critique of Johnston’s Arguments

Taken as a whole, Johnston’s statement is coherent and persuasive, except for his fourth point, much of which is confused, if not questionable. It is important to consider this in detail, since some of the matters it covers reappear in later controversies.

The first part of his argument appears to be that the Church has never been opposed to presentations as such, only the particular way in which presentations were understood to operate in earlier times, that is, as a process by which a vacancy could be filled without deference to ecclesiastical examination and admission. He substantiates this claim by referring to the frequency with which the Assembly, from the beginning, called for its collation rights to be upheld, yet, by contrast, was silent on the subject of patronage’s abolition. To this it must be answered, however, that there is little indication that the early Reformers collectively entertained a different definition of the word presentation from that used by the next generation. It is certainly difficult to derive such an impression from the text of either Book of Discipline, and Gordon Donaldson makes no allowance for it: “Between 1560 and 1567 . . . while the crown showed a certain hesitation about making presentations and usually preferred to dispone benefices by simple gift, other patrons in general adhered to the traditional procedure of presentation followed by episcopal collation.”45

As for the existence of actual dialectic about the issue of lay patronage during the early Reformation period, Johnston is right when he alludes to its paucity. Nonetheless, it is still justifiable to conclude that the early Reformers’ ideal vision of “lawful election” did not include presentations (of any kind) by lay patrons.46 That there was not more attention paid to a campaign for actual abolition, was due to a pragmatism which obliged them to stifle such ambitions until a more favorable climate showed itself. In this respect, for example, a particular inducement to tread warily seems to have taken place in 1565, when the Queen took the opportunity of warning the Assembly that the Crown was not prepared to make compromises on the patronage issue. Since the Church was in need of the queen’s assistance in trying to resolve its increasingly desperate financial crisis (see chapter 1), the incentive would have been overwhelming for the Assembly to soften its position on presentations, and, instead, focus on the vital, but less confrontational issue of collation rights.

Johnston’s next argument is that patronage and the Kirk’s freedom of election need not be incompatible, since the crucial issue is always whether or not a forced intrusion takes place. In his view, such intrusions should not happen so long as presentations are channeled through presbyteries, where the candidate can again47 be examined and then admitted. He forms this conclusion on the grounds that, “the Presbyterie, whilk being composed of some delegatis from the Kirk-Session of every pareoch, importis in thair Actis the consent of the haill.”48 It must be allowed that Johnston’s claim has validity when applied to those settlements where the presbytery was, from the start, the prime mover in the vacancy process, perhaps sending a leet of candidates to the parish and thereafter canvassing opinion upon it. In such instances, it might actually seek a presentation from the patron as its final step before admission. As A.I. Dunlop has pointed out in his article on the polity of the Kirk between 1600 and 1637, this was not uncommon.49 Indeed, as was the case in the planting of Calder (Edinburgh) in 1617, and St. Andrews (St. Andrews) in 1639, the presentation might even be made weeks, or even years, after the admission had taken place.50 Clearly, in such situations, a congregation’s sentiments would have been reflected in the presbytery’s actions. However, Johnston is noticeably uncertain on the matter of what the presbytery was to do when (as became more common) the patron took the initiative and issued a presentation first. Having said that there should not be an intrusion problem if the presbytery’s privileges are observed, he then, in effect, contradicts himself by conceding that determined, parochial opposition can indeed happen. In such a case, his solution is that the presbytery should not admit the presentee. He then goes a step further, by adding: “And to tell yow my thochtis, as they ay come into my head....I think the pareoch hes quandam speciem vocis negativae [something akin to a negative voice] at the leist, quhilk yit takis no wayes away the patrones right of patronage.”51 He does not, however, provide any references to confirm his view, which itself is complicated by his additional opinion that congregational refusals should be overruled if redolent of obstinacy. Even this statement fits awkwardly with the succeeding argument, which likens the patron’s role to that of a matchmaker: “quhither any freind to the partie, or the partie to thair freindis, be the first proponer of the match, I think thair is no so essentiall a difference...gif the match be maid with consent of parties.”52 The difficulty, of course, with the analogy was that, in the ecclesiastical domain, consent was not unrestricted, nor was there guidance for presbyteries as to what constituted unreasonable refusal.

To be fair to Johnston, however, the whole issue of consent, that is to say, how it could be incorporated into a presentations system and by how much, had been unresolved since the legislation of 1567, as Donaldson mentions: “How, if at all, the patron’s presentation and the superintendent’s collation were reconciled with any right of congregations to choose their ministers is by no means clear . . . and the indications are that the wishes of the parishioners, if not wholly ignored, could be influential only by being made known informally to the patron.”53

To sum up, the flaw of Johnston’s main argument is that he accepts that patronage is a “thraldome” which the Kirk would be better without, yet, instead of simply saying that it is something which must be endured for reasons of expedience, he also attempts to convey that it is not a burden at all, if properly exercised. This contradiction is one indication that the statement’s author is not entirely confident that he has a sufficient answer to all the issues raised by the Glassford complaint. His declared ill-health and the necessity for haste would possibly have had a bearing on this, but, almost certainly, there were other contributory factors.

In the first place, Johnston’s major difficulty was that he could not bear to think, given the importance of the Kirk’s quickly consolidating the gains of the revolution, that parishes and presbyteries could actually allow themselves to become embroiled in disputes over what were, to him, largely matters of opinion and preference—and this at a time, when, above all, the pressing need was simply to fill vacancies.54 Indeed, he knew there were areas where long vacancies would have been especially damaging. These were centers of influence, like Edinburgh, or parishes where the local magnates were Roman Catholic or episcopal in sympathy. This was why the 1638 Assembly, seeing the urgent necessity to advance to such places men able to “stop the mouthes of the adversaries,” had revived an Assembly Act of 1596, ordering presbyteries to take particular care that this be done.55

Secondly, it would have occurred to Johnston that Glassford’s challenge to the Kirk’s working relationship with the patrons might well be repeated in other parishes. Glassford’s patronage was in private hands, but the worrying thought was that, since many parishes still had the king as patron, these too might now be emboldened to complain about the level of attention paid to their preferences, thereby creating the possibility of much damage to the Covenant’s professions of respect for the Crown.

These two concerns would have fuelled Johnston’s anxiety to produce a rebuttal which was both swift and assertive. In the immediate term, he was probably successful, but, as will be seen in the next section, the issues which had risen to the surface at Glassford were not to disappear. If anything, Johnston’s treatise served to stimulate debate about patronage rather than dissipate it. Nonetheless, what is significant about his essay is that it provides not only a revealing insight into the thinking of the Covenanters’ leading legal adviser, but also emerges as the Kirk’s first serious discussion of the tensions involved in attempting to reconcile the ideal of congregational consultation with the interests of a landowning elite, jealous of their rights.

Attitudes to Lay Patronage in the 1640s

For all his attempts to quash the complaints raised at Glassford, it is clear that Johnston also knew the Church could not afford to ignore them. Having now been voiced publicly, they were not likely simply to go away. That the Kirk was well aware it could not forget about the issue can be glimpsed in the wording of some of the Assembly legislation ratified by Parliament in 1640. Although the rights of patrons were upheld, the Act for planting of kirks unprovided with ministers through the patron’s default reminded presbyteries to use every opportunity to fill vacancies, but at the same time to obtain the consent of the parishioners.56 Again, the Act anent admission of ministers to kirks which belonged to bishoprics reassured patrons of their status, yet took the opportunity of pointedly asserting that presentations had not always been necessary to establish right to a stipend.57

An indication of how matters were now rapidly developing can be seen the following year in a book, The Government and Order of the Church of Scotland, by the prominent Covenanter, Alexander Henderson.58 In the section on the admission of ministers, Henderson (who writes in the guise of a detached observer) suggests by his tone that the principle of popular consent should be regarded as settled in Scotland, and that presentations are, by contrast, merely endured for diplomatic reasons: “liberty of election is in part prejudged and hindered by patronages and presentations which are still in use there, not by the rules of their discipline, but by toleration of that which they cannot amend; in the meantime procuring, that in the case of presentations by patrons, the examination and tryall by the presbytery is still the same. The congregation, where he is presented to serve, is called, if they have aught to object against his doctrine or life, after they have heard him, or [if they have not] that their consent may be had.”59

By 1642, it is clear that the status quo was becoming less and less attractive. At that year’s Assembly, an attempt at reform appeared in the guise of the Act anent the order for making lists to his majestie, and other patrons, for presentations; the order of tryall of expectants, and for trying the quality of Kirks.60 The main feature of this was the revelation that an arrangement had been negotiated with the king, so that, if a vacancy were to arise within the gift of either the Crown or anyone to whom he had disponed the patronage after 3 January 1642, then the presentation would only be given to a candidate selected from leets provided by the Church. On the occurrence of each vacancy, the presbytery would send the patron a blank presentation and a list of six persons who were both acceptable to the majority of the congregation, and willing to take the charge.61 To the parliamentary commissioners who had arranged the agreement, it may well have seemed a suitable compromise, but Baillie saw no future in it: “The overture . . . was of no use to us; for it was hard for us to find one person to a vacant kirk; bot to send up six . . . “62

Baillie felt the same lack of enthusiasm for another compromise, this time put before the Assembly by the Marquis of Argyll.63 Hoping to persuade his fellow patrons to join him, Argyll offered a bargain whereby, “they would give free libertie to presbyteries and people to name whom they would to vacant places, on condition the Assemblie would obleidge intrants to rest content with modified stipends.”64 Baillie’s view was that it was foolish to tie the Church’s hands, but further debate on the matter was aborted when it became obvious that some landed patrons were outraged that any such arrangement was being discussed at all. Accordingly, it was thought wise to drop the subject of patronage for the remainder of the court’s sitting.

When the 1643 Assembly came around, it was obvious the patronage debate was still very much alive. The fact was, Johnston’s optimism that patrons and parishes should not find it difficult to work in harmony, was starting to be contradicted by a succession of tiresome altercations. Since 1641, lengthy disputes had arisen between the preferences of patron and people, as at Dundee and at Inverness second charge; between patron and presbytery, as at Kilrenny [St. Andrews]; and between patron against presbytery and people, as at Campsie [Glasgow] and Largo [St. Andrews].65 It was perhaps not unexpected, therefore, that some should have considered the time had come for a full airing of the subject, as Baillie was to report: “We are like to be troubled with the question of Patronage. William Rigg [Sir William Rigg of Ethernie, who sat in Parliament for Fife] had procured a sharpe petition to us from the whole Commissioners of shyres and burghes against the intrusion of ministers on parishes against their minde; diverse noblemen, patrons, took this evill. We knew not how to guide it; at last, because of the time, as [with] all other things of great difficultie, we got it suppressed.”66

Clearly, however, stifling the debate could only act as a temporary expedient. When the Assembly returned to the issue a few days later in a resolution to reduce, through scarcity of candidates, the leets submitted to the king from six to three, the Marquis of Argyll used the opportunity to make a suggestion that “pleased all.” This was that a start should be made in drawing up a code of practice for other patrons beside the king. To this end, he moved that presbyteries be asked to consider the best way of admitting ministers to charges, and send their opinions to the following meeting. The Assembly, thinking it “very necessary that some general course were set down . . . whereby all occasions of contests and differences among patrons, presbyteries and paroches may be removed,”67 gratefully accepted the suggestion.

Given the weakness of the Crown at the time, it is possible that the Argyll proposal might well have thrashed out a system which preserved patronage in a form acceptable to most interests and opinions. Whether it would have survived and thereby spared the Kirk the anguish of the next two centuries, is hard to guess. In the event, however, Argyll’s initiative petered out as developments south of the border rose to occupy the main focus of national attention.

Summary

The 1587 Act of Annexation heightened landowners’ awareness of, and concern for, the heritable rights which applied to their property, of which patronage was one. Although the Kirk would have been alarmed by the powers vested in the episcopate to receive and expedite presentations, by the end of James’s reign, it looked as though the system he set in place for filling vacancies had a good chance of reaching a settled state. Charles’s misfortune was that although his intentions for teind reform had merit, the handling of so sensitive an issue required skills that he did not possess. This, along with mounting disquiet at his ecclesiastical policy, led to the revolution of 1637–8, the success of which would have been impossible without the support of the landed interest. Out of the ensuing turmoil came a renewal of the debate within the Church as to the acceptability of presentations. This in turn was intensified when attentions turned to the civil war that was brewing south of the border. As dialogue opened with the English Parliamentarians, the question arose, how far could both nations work together, or moreover, form a common ecclesiastical polity? If the latter were possible, what place would presentations have in the new regime?

Such questions were to occupy much attention north and south of the border as both nations groped towards a possible consensus at what came to be known as the Westminster Assembly of Divines.

1. 1588, 1592, and 1598.

2. Since the teinds had been specifically excluded from the 1587 Annexation Act, the presumption, in ecclesiastical circles, had been that they were being earmarked for the Church’s use. However, it became increasingly obvious that nothing specific was going to materialize: “Sometimes the teinds of the annexed churches were expressly conveyed to the grantee, and erected into benefices with grants of the patronage; at other times there was no mention of the patronage and no erection of the teinds into benefices, but in both cases the Lords of Erection generally assumed to themselves the right of presenting” [Patronage Report, #32].

3. Sess. 4, 9 March 1598; BUK, 467.

4. APS., iv, 294. The Act does not define simony, but simply lists it, along with the dilapidation of the rents of benefices, as an offence worthy of deprivation.

5. The privilege was affirmed in the Deposition of Ministers Act of 1592 [APS, iii, 542, c.9]. On the 23 July 1644, however, Parliament decided that the fruits of a vacant benefice could only be expended on pious uses [APS. vi, 128, c.47]. After the Restoration 0f 1660, the 1644 Act was rescinded. Yet, although presentations (abolished in 1649) were then re-established, patrons did not get back their right to the teinds of a vacancy. These were to be applied for pious uses for seven years, then during royal pleasure [APS., 1661, vii, 303, c.330].

6. APS, iv, 469.

7. Dunlop, Parochial law, 193–94.

8. For a discussion of this, see David G. Mullen, Episcopacy in Scotland: the history of an idea (Edinburgh: 1986).

9. Basilikon Doron, in Source Book iii, 51.

10. APS, iv, 130.

11. Although an English–style royal supremacy in the Kirk was not constitutionally possible, since unlike England, the Kirk did not issue from the conscious will and pleasure of a monarch.

12. BUK, 587; APS, iv, 469.

13. W. R. Foster, The church before the Covenants. (Edinburgh: 1975), 24–25.

14. APS, iv, 529.

15. These chiefly concerned a new prayer book and the restoration of certain practices (the celebration of Christian festivals, private baptism, episcopal confirmation, private communion and receipt of the sacrament while kneeling) which came to be known as the Five Articles of Perth. Seeing the hostility both matters engendered, James licensed the former and enacted the latter, but did not press them further.

16. “Fifteen nobles voted [in 1621] against the proposals, amongst them lords of erection who might have been expected to support the King. James had triumphed, but at great cost to the authority of the crown.” Ian B. Cowan, “The Five Articles of Perth” in, Reformation and revolution, essays presented to the Very Rev. Hugh Watt. (Edinburgh: 1967), 177.

17. Keith Brown, Kingdom or Province? Scotland and the regal union, 1603–1715. (Basingstoke: 1992), 97. See also Alan R. MacDonald, The Jacobean kirk, 1567–1625, sovereignty, polity and liturgy (Aldershot: 1998).

18. See David Stevenson, The Scottish Revolution, 1637–1644; the triumph of the Covenanters. (Newton Abbot: 1973), 35–36

19. That is, he was given the right to buy them from the titular or patron at nine-years’ purchase.

20. W. R. Foster, “A constant platt achieved: provision for the ministry, 1600–38” in Reformation and Revolution, 140.

21. The first, in 1606, was to see that incumbents of churches in the new erections were properly remunerated. Since the commission’s remit was, technically, limited to parishes within former abbey lands, a wider commission was established in 1617 (and renewed in 1621), with the aim of upgrading all inadequate stipends. Being a compromise, the results failed to be comprehensive, but there were significant improvements. See: Foster, “A constant platt achieved,” 127–33.

22. Ian B. Cowan, The Scottish covenanters. (London: 1976), 19.

23. Stevenson, Scottish revolution, 38.

24. Stevenson, Scottish revolution, 41.

25. See Macinnes, Charles I, 67–70.

26. See, `The humble supplication of the lords and commissioners of Parliament undersubscryveing’ [1633] and “The humble supplication of some lords and others commissioners of the late parliament” 1634], in John Row, The History of the Kirk of Scotland from the year 1558 to August 1637 Wodrow Society. (Edinburgh: 1842), 364–66; 376–81.

27. Row, The History, 351; 360.

28. Row, 381ff.; Macinnes, Charles I, 90; John Spalding, The History of the troubles and memorable transactions in Scotland and England from 1624 to 1645 Bannatyne Club 25 (Edinburgh: 1828), vol. I, 45–47.

29. Row, 398.

30. Macinnes, 185; Row, 493ff.

31. Alexander Peterkin, Records of the Kirk of Scotland, containing the acts and proceedings of the General Assemblies from the year 1638 downwards, (Edinburgh: 1843), 191.

32. David Stevenson, King or Covenant? Voices from the civil war. (East Linton: 1996), 21.

33. The letters and journals of Robert Baillie, AM, principal of the university of Glasgow, 1637–62 ed. Laing, David, 3 vols, (Edinburgh: 1841), i, “To William Spang” (his cousin and minister of the Scots church, Veere, Netherlands), 12 February 1639, 114.

34. Baillie, Letters, ii, “Letter from Archibald Johnston of Warristone to Mr Robert Baillie, 25 December 1639,” 451.

35. Pitcairn, Acts, 26.

36. Baillie, Letters, ii, 459.

37. 30 August 1639. RPCS., vii, 132. On the 31 August 1641, Parliament ordered the protest to be deleted.

38. Baillie, Letters, 459.

39. “Letter from Archibald Johnston of Warriston, to Mr Robert Baillie. 25 December 1639.” Baillie, 450–60. Johnston does not reveal the location of the other place where the issue was in contention. The background to the Glassford dispute is ably described in W. Makey, The church of the Covenant 1637–1651, (Edinburgh: 1979), 174–75.

40. Baillie, 454.

41. Ibid., 458.

42. Ibid., 459.

43. Ibid.

44. Ibid., 460.

45. Donaldson, Scottish Reformation, 73.

46. Unless it is considered that an oblique reference was made to them in the 1562 Assembly Act: “That inhibition shall be made to all . . . that hes not been presented be the people, or ane part thereof, to the Superintendant.” BUK, 12.

47. A presentee would already have been examined and “licensed” as a probationer or expectant. The Church’s intention was that he would always be re-examined before admission to his first charge.

48. Ibid., 457,

49. A. I. Dunlop, “The polity of the Scottish church, 1600–1637,” RSCHS, xii, (1955–6), 177.

50. Hardy Bertram McCall, The history and antiquities of the parish of Mid-Calder. (Edinburgh: 1894), 223; Patronage report, 1834, 402.

51. Ibid., 457–48

52. Baillie, Letters, 458.

53. Donaldson, Scottish Reformation, 154.

54. A 1640 parliamentary Act For planting of kirks unprovided with ministers through the patron’s default complains of the large number of continuing vacancies. APS., v, 299.

55. Pitcairn, Acts, 22–24.

56. APS., v, 299.

57. APS, v, 299–300. By this Act, the Kirk claimed the right to settle charges that had been put into the hands of bishops, by virtue of the Act of 1606 restoring their estate.

58. Alexander Henderson (1583–1646) was originally a supporter of episcopacy, and had been given the charge of Leuchars (St Andrews) against the wishes of the parish; he subsequently changed his opinions and spoke against episcopacy, the Five Articles and Laud’s liturgy; he was the chief draughtsman of both Covenants, and after his election as moderator of the Glasgow Assembly, was a towering figure in church affairs; called to Edinburgh in 1638.

59. Alexander Henderson, The government and order of the church of Scotland, (Edinburgh: 1641), section ii, quoted in Patronage Report, 475. For a summary of the section on calling of ministers, see Appendix I.

60. Act Sess. 7, 3 August 1642, Pitcairn, 54–55.

61. A candidate could already be in a parish, but if an expectant, he was not eligible for the leet unless he had been tried and admitted to the “exercise” for at least six months.

62. Letters, ii, 47.

63. Archibald Campbell, 1607–61, was eighth earl of Argyll and became a marquis in 1641. At this time he was probably the Covenanters’ leading figure, and a dominant force, nationally.

64. Ibid., From 1617, the Commisssioners of Teinds had the power to “modify” or decide a level of stipend.

65. Peterkin, 306–7; Baillie, Letters, i, 369–73; ii, 93.

66. Baillie, Letters, ii, 94.

67. Sess. ult., 19 August 1643, The Assembly’s humble desires to his majestie anent the lists for presentations, with a recommendation to presbyteries, Pitcairn, 86–87.