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
