The

intellect and history. If we were to try to translate the first Book of Paradise Lost into the style of the Positive Philosophy, the effect could not be more absurd. We are far from affirming that the dark shades in Mr. Buckle's picture of the theology of Scotland in the seventeenth century find no counterpart in reality. On the contrary, it is freely admitted that the gloom and prejudice of the times, the untamed fierceness of a half-civilised people and a half-enlightened clergy, to whom the retributive drama of the Old Testament history was far more familiar than the gentle spirit and precepts of the New, impressed themselves necessarily upon their creed, and in many respects miserably degraded their notions of the supernatural. But what we complain of in Mr. Buckle is, that he has failed. to see the true meaning and explanation of the theological doctrines to which the Scottish intellect devoted itself in the seventeenth century, and that he has consequently misinterpreted to a large extent the character of that intellect, and the comparative vigour of its efforts in the next century. In their application to theological subjects in the age succeeding the Reformation, the Scottish people were merely employed as the English and every Protestant people more or less were. whole history of Puritanism is nothing else than the evidence of this and there is scarcely an opinion attributed to the superstition of Scotland which cannot be abundantly paralleled in the Puritan theology of England. An intense theological speculativeness and endless theorizing as to the supernatural and the manner of man's intercourse with it, was a characteristic of the time. In Scotland it possessed peculiar features, some of them wretched and poor enough, some of them, however, picturesque and interesting. Mr. Buckle has treated the subject in a uniform spirit of sceptical Positivism, without any regard to its connexion with the general theological movement of the seventeenth century, or even with the Puritan theology of England. He seems to have no conception of what is Catholic and what is Puritan, and still less of what belonged to the general stock of Puritan theology, and what was the accident of Scottish growth. Ideas essentially Christian are mixed up indiscriminately with the most absurd exaggeration of the history of opinion, and above all of theological opinion. Had the spirit of the Church of Scotland been what Mr. Buckle conceives it to be, it certainly never could have achieved those results which even he cannot deny to it.

With the Revolution the last and worst Episcopacy of Scotland perished, and perished utterly. It sent its emissaries to London, to watch the progress of events; it waited in dubious

anxiety at home as the storm gathered round it; but it can scarcely be said to have made any struggle for existence. William himself was a Calvinist, and in Holland had been a Presbyterian; but above everything he was a statesman, and he had no wish, therefore, for extreme measures. He would have tolerated Episcopacy in Scotland, if it could have been tolerated-if it would have owned his government, and made itself tolerable to the Scottish people. But neither of these things could it do. The Episcopal clergy obeyed their natural instincts when they clung to the cause of the dethroned monarch, and they would have required to change their whole spirit and principles before they could have conciliated any section even of the moderate Presbyterians. In these circumstances the matter was left in the hands of the National Convention, which met at Edinburgh in the spring of 1689. The result was not doubtful. It declared, first of all, that King James, being a Papist, had violated the fundamental laws of the kingdom and forfeited his right to the crown;' and, further, it declared in memorable words: That Prelacy, and the superiority of any office in the Church above presbyters, is and hath been a great and unsupportable grievance and trouble to this nation, and 'contrary to the inclination of the generality of the people ever since the Reformation, and therefore ought to be abolished.' This was followed by an Act of Parliament in the following July abolishing Prelacy, and promising that their Majesties, with consent of the Estates, would establish such a church government as would be agreeable to the inclinations of the people. About a year later the promise was fulfilled. On the 25th of April, 1690, Parliament met to arrange the ecclesiastical establishment of the country. The first proceeding was to abolish the Act of 1669, which asserted the King's supremacy over all persons and in all causes. It then restored the ejected Presbyterian ministers, and at length laid anew the foundation of the Presbyterian Church, by ratifying the Westminster Confession of Faith, and confirming the Act of 1592, the original Charter of Presbytery. While incorporating in its documents, and so legalising, the creed of the new establishment, it left its ritual undefined and unsettled. The Westminster Directory of Worship was not incorporated along with the Confession. The story goes that the Members of Parliament suffered so intolerably from the tedium of hearing the Confession read over, that they would hear no more, and so the Catechism and the Directory remained without legal sanction, although the Church itself, by its solemn acts, had approved and sanctioned both.

In what respect the New Presbyterian Establishment of Scotland differed from the Original Reformed Kirk of Knox, or the True Kirk' of Melville and 1592, has not, we think, been sufficiently considered by Scottish writers. The same in idea and in the Presbyterian imagination of the time, it was in reality different from its predecessors. Scottish Presbytery had not passed through the waters with English Puritanism without bearing traces of the passage. The struggles of a time (164060), which had seen such a disturbance, not merely of political but of religious and moral elements, in which the deepest mysteries of Theology had become party watchwords - had left their scar upon it. It remained the only National Institution in which the Puritan dogmas survived in their full strength. The English nation never adopted these dogmas as a whole; even the Presbyterian clergy, who hailed the return of Charles and who debated with the bishops at the Savoy Conference, never insisted upon them as their chartered faith; but Scotland, not only in the early heat of Puritan fervour (1647 and 1649), but now, when that fervour had died down, accepted them without hesitation, and built its Church upon them.

Of English rather than of Scottish origin-the production of an Assembly convened by an English Parliament and sitting in the chapel of an English abbey-the Scottish Church hailed the Puritan Confession as its own, and forgot, for it, its earlier and simpler creed. The advantage of this may be greatly questioned. Could Knox have taken part in the proceedings of 1690, he would no doubt have had something to say in favour of his own Confession; not, perhaps, that he would have seen any important discrepancy between his own opinions and those of the Westminster Assembly, but that he would have traced in the latter polemical distinctions which he little understood, and for which he could not have cared. Puritanism was a great practical heroism, and the Scottish Church could never have too much of its pious zeal and evangelical fervency; but it was no philosophy. Its intellectual vision was microscopic and not telescopic. It could split a dogma into fragments and fix the relation of its several parts; but it could not see the broader and more comprehensive bearings of Truth as a whole. The divines of the Reformation, in all the higher qualities of mind that range with an intelligent sympathy and comprehension over nature, and life, and thought in general, were greatly superior

*The English Parliament of 1648 ratified, with some modifications, the doctrinal part of the Confession of Faith.

to the mere systematic divines of the seventeenth century; and to the former could far more safely be entrusted the making of a creed which should stand the strain of ages and the expansions of modern speculation.

The Presbyterian Establishment, thus set up by the Parliament of 1690, was not launched upon its course without difficulty. There were many points to settle; the country remained in an excited and in many parts in a disaffected state; the Government was anxious to consolidate itself by every security in its power, and to the oath of allegiance, accordingly, was added the oath of assurance, in which the swearer declared William was king de jure as well as de facto. It was believed that the Presbyterian clergy would have no scruple to such an oath, and their great patron, the Earl of Crawford, gave his word for them. He was found, however, to be mistaken. The General Assembly of 1694 firmly refused to subscribe the oath. His Majesty's Commissioner, Lord Carmichael, had instructions to dissolve the Assembly if it continued obstinate in its refusal. Reluctant to proceed to this extremity, and perplexed what to do, he had despatched a messenger to London to receive final instructions. The King had drawn up a peremptory answer to the Commissioner to maintain his alternative in the face of what he considered little else than rebellion, and despatched a messenger with the answer, when one appeared on the field to whom, not only in this business of the Scottish Church, but in many other grave state matters, William owed, perhaps, as much as to any of his other friends and counsellorsPrincipal Carstairs. Carstairs was a man of great address, of infinite tact, of strong intellect, and kindly feelings. He had known the torture of the thumbscrew in the days of Lauderdale, and yet he was no fanatic. He had gone into exile, and earned and enjoyed the confidence of William at the Hague, and yet he was no mere politician. At the Revolution he had been made Principal of Edinburgh College, and to him more than to any man the Church of the Revolution owes the terms of its establishment and the nature of its constitution. He knew his countrymen and he knew his royal master. And he now ventured on a step which showed the bravery of his devotion to both, and averted a collision that might have been disastrous. He was in London when the messenger came from Scotland, but he had gone from home and learned nothing of the matter till the messenger was despatched on his return. On reaching home, reading his letters and learning the nature of the business and the answer which the King had sent off, he saw the crisis was urgent, and hesitated not what he should do. But

we shall quote Mr. Cunningham's spirited narrative, which will furnish a very good specimen of his style.

'Carstairs managed to get hold of the messenger just as he was ready to start, and required him in the King's name to deliver his despatches to him. In possession of these, he went directly to the King's apartment. The lord-in-waiting told him that his Majesty was gone to bed; but Carstairs said that he was come on business of the greatest moment, and must get admittance. On entering the room he found his Majesty asleep. He drew aside the curtain, went down on his knees at the bed-side, and then awakened the King. Amazed to see his chaplain at such an hour and in such a posture, he asked what was the matter. “I am come," said Carstairs, “to beg my life." "Is it possible," said William, " you have done anything deserving of death?" Carstairs told him that he had detained the royal messenger, and produced the despatches he had taken from him. William was not a man easily to brook such an interference, and sharply asked Carstairs how he had dared to countermand his orders. Carstairs begged to be heard in his defence. William listened attentively while he urged that the Episcopalians were already his enemies, that this oath would make the Presbyterians his enemies too; that oaths were of little avail to a prince if he lost the hearts of his subjects; but that if he yielded this to them, he would bind them for ever to his throne. The frown gradually left William's countenance as Carstairs proceeded; and, in the end, he told him to throw the despatches into the fire, and write such instructions as he thought best. It was done; and the messenger was soon upon the road, travelling post haste to Edinburgh.

'Meantime both the Commissioner and the ministers were in the utmost perplexity. On the very next day the Assembly was to meet, and still the messenger had not returned. Lord Carmichael, by the instructions he had, was bound to dissolve the Assembly. The ministers were determined to assert their authority and meet notwithstanding. Both alike dreaded the result. Happily the messenger arrived on the morning of the eventful day, and when his packet was opened, it was found, to the joy of all, that it was his Majesty's pleasure to dispense with the oaths. When the Assembly met, every minister was more hearty than another in the praise of the King. From that day to this there has been no collision between the Church and the Sovereign in regard to the calling of Assemblies. The Commissioner dissolves the Assembly as if all the power were with him; the Moderator dissolves it as if all the power were with him. Either, in like manner, nominates a day for a new Thus the old question is still kept alive, but the perfect understanding and inviolate faith of both the parties have prevented it from assuming a troublesome shape.' (Vol. ii. p. 307.)

one.

With the eighteenth century the Church of Scotland entered upon a new career. Peaceably established in its long-contested rights, there seemed before it a grand mission. And so there

was.

That it failed in the mission, it would be too much to