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
