IV. What are the _remote results_ yet to be apprehended?

I. First, then, WHAT _is it that has been done?_ Up to the month of

May in 1834, the fathers and brothers of the 'Kirk' were in harmony

as great as humanity can hope to see. Since May, 1834, the church has

been a fierce crater of volcanic agencies, throwing out of her bosom

one-third of her children; and these children are no sooner born into

their earthly atmosphere, than they turn, with unnatural passions, to

the destruction of their brethren. What can be the grounds upon which

an _acharnement_ so deadly has arisen?

It will read to the ears of a stranger almost as an experiment upon

his credulity, if we tell the simple truth. Being incredible, however,

it is not the less true; and, being monstrous, it will yet be recorded

in history, that the Scottish church has split into mortal feuds upon

two points absolutely without interest to the nation; first, upon a

demand for creating clergymen by a new process; secondly, upon a demand

for Papal latitude of jurisdiction. Even the order of succession in

these things is not without meaning. Had the second demand stood first,

it would have seemed possible that the two demands might have grown

up independently, and so far conscientiously. But, according to the

realities of the case, this is _not_ possible; the second demand grew

_out_ of the first. The interest of the Seceders, as locked up in their

earliest requisition, was that which prompted their second. Almost

everybody was contented with the existing mode of creating the pastoral

relation. Search through Christendom, lengthways and breadthways, there

was not a public usage, an institution, an economy, which more

profoundly slept in the sunshine of divine favor or of civil prosperity,

than the peculiar mode authorized and practised in Scotland of

appointing to every parish its several pastor. Here and there an

ultra-Presbyterian spirit might prompt a murmur against it. But the

wise and intelligent approved; and those who had the appropriate--that

is, the religious interest--confessed that it was practically successful.

From whom, then, came the attempt to change? Why, from those only who

had an alien interest, an indirect interest, an interest of ambition

in its subversion. As matters stood in the spring of 1834, the patron

of each benefice, acting under the severest restraints--restraints which

(if the church courts did their duty) left no room or possibility for

an unfit man to creep in--nominated the incumbent. In a spiritual sense,

the church had all power: by refusing, first of all, to '_license_'

unqualified persons; secondly, by refusing to '_admit_' out of these

licensed persons such as might have become warped from the proper standard

of pastoral fitness, the church had a negative voice, all-potential in

the creation of clergymen; the church could exclude whom she pleased.

But this contented her not. Simply to shut out was an ungracious office,

though mighty for the interests of orthodoxy through the land. The

children of this world, who became the agitators of the church, clamored

for something more. They desired for the church that she should become a

lady patroness; that she should give as well as take away; that she should

wield a sceptre, courted for its bounties, and not merely feared for its

austerities. Yet how should this be accomplished? Openly to translate

upon the church the present power of patrons--_that_ were too

revolutionary, that would have exposed its own object. For the present,

therefore, let this device prevail--let the power nominally be

transferred to congregations: let this be done upon the plea that each

congregation understands best what mode of ministrations tends to its

own edification. There lies the semblance of a Christian plea; the

congregation, it is said, has become anxious for itself; the church

has become anxious for the congregation. And then, if the translation

should be effected, the church has already devised a means for

appropriating the power which she has unsettled; for she limits this

power to the communicants at the sacramental table. Now, in Scotland,

though not in England, the character of communicant is notoriously

created or suspended by the clergyman of each parish; so that, by the

briefest of circuits, the church causes the power to revolve into her

own hands.

That was the first change--a change full of Jacobinism; and for which

to be published was to be denounced. It was necessary, therefore, to

place this Jacobin change upon a basis privileged from attack. How

should _that_ be done? The object was to create a new clerical power;

to shift the election of clergymen from the lay hands in which law and

usage had lodged it; and, under a plausible mask of making the election

popular, circuitously to make it ecclesiastical. Yet, if the existing

patrons of church benefices should see themselves suddenly denuded of

their rights, and within a year or two should see these rights settling

determinately into the hands of the clergy, the fraud, the fraudulent

purpose, and the fraudulent machinery, would have stood out in gross

proportions too palpably revealed. In this dilemma the reverend

agitators devised a second scheme. It was a scheme bearing triple

harvests; for, at one and the same time, it furnished the motive which

gave a constructive coherency and meaning to the original purpose, it

threw a solemn shadow over the rank worldliness of that purpose, and

it opened a diffusive tendency towards other purposes of the same

nature, as yet undeveloped. The device was this: in Scotland, as in

England, the total process by which a parish clergyman is created,

subdivides itself into several successive acts. The initial act belongs

to the patron of the benefice: he must '_present_;' that is, he notifies

the fact of his having conferred the benefice upon A B, to a public

body which officially takes cognizance of this act; and that body is,

not the particular parish concerned, but the presbytery of the district

in which the parish is seated. Thus far the steps, merely legal, of

the proceedings, were too definite to be easily disturbed. These steps

are sustained by Lord Aberdeen as realities, and even by the

Non-intrusionists were tolerated as formalities.

But at this point commence other steps not so rigorously defined by

law or usage, nor so absolutely within one uniform interpretation of

their value. In practice they had long sunk into forms. But ancient

forms easily lend themselves to a revivification by meanings and

applications, new or old, under the galvanism of democratic forces.

The disturbers of the church, passing by the act of 'presentation' as

an obstacle too formidable to be separately attacked on its own account,

made their stand upon one of the two acts which lie next in succession.

It is the regular routine, that the presbytery, having been warned of

the patron's appointment, and having 'received' (in technical language)

the presentee--that is, having formally recognised him in that

character--next appoint a day on which he is to preach before the

congregation. This sermon, together with the prayers by which it is

accompanied, constitute the probationary act according to some views;

but, according to the general theory, simply the inaugural act by which

the new pastor places himself officially before his future parishioners.

Decorum, and the sense of proportion, seem to require that to every

commencement of a very weighty relation, imposing new duties, there

should be a corresponding and ceremonial entrance. The new pastor,

until this public introduction, could not be legitimately assumed for

known to the parishioners. And accordingly at this point it was--viz.

subsequently to his authentic publication, as we may call it--that,

in the case of any grievous scandal known to the parish as outstanding

against him, arose the proper opportunity furnished by the church for

lodging the accusation, and for investigating it before the church

court. In default, however, of any grave objection to the presentee,

he was next summoned by the presbytery to what really _was_ a

probationary act at their bar; viz. an examination of his theological

sufficiency. But in this it could not be expected that he should fail,

because he must previously have satisfied the requisitions of the

church in his original examination for a license to preach. Once

dismissed with credit from this bar, he was now beyond all further

probation whatsoever; in technical phrase, he was entitled to

'admission.' Such were the steps, according to their orderly succession,

by which a man consummated the pastoral tie with any particular parish.

And all of these steps, subsequent to the '_reception_' and inaugural

preaching, were now summarily characterized by the revolutionists as

'spiritual;' for the sake of sequestering them into their own hands.

As to the initiatory act of presentation, _that_ might be secular, and

to be dealt with by a secular law. But the rest were acts which belonged

not to a kingdom of this world. 'These,' with a newborn scrupulosity

never heard of until the revolution of 1834, clamored for new

casuistries; 'these,' said the agitators, 'we cannot consent any longer

to leave in their state of collapse as mere inert or ceremonial forms.

They must be revivified. By all means, let the patron present as

heretofore. But the acts of "examination" and "admission," _together

with the power of altogether refusing to enter upon either,_ under a

protest against the candidate from a clear majority of the

parishioners--these are acts falling within the spiritual jurisdiction

of the church. And these powers we must, for the future, see exercised

according to spiritual views.'

Here, then, suddenly emerged a perfect ratification for their own

previous revolutionary doctrine upon the creation of parish clergymen.

This new scruple was, in relation to former scruples, a perfect

linch-pin for locking their machinery into cohesion. For vainly would

they have sought to defeat the patron's right of presenting, unless

through this sudden pause and interdict imposed upon the _latter_ acts

in the process of induction, under the pretext that these were acts

competent only to a spiritual jurisdiction. This plea, by its tendency,

rounded and secured all that they had yet advanced in the way of claim.

But, at the same time, though indispensable negatively, positively it

stretched so much further than any necessity or interest inherent in

their present innovations, that not improbably they faltered and shrank

back at first from the immeasurable field of consequences upon which

it opened. They would willingly have accepted less. But, unfortunately,

it sometimes happens, that, to gain as much as is needful in one

direction, you must take a great deal more than you wish for in another.

Any principle, which _could_ carry them over the immediate difficulty,

would, by a mere necessity, carry them incalculably beyond it. For if

every act bearing in any one direction a spiritual aspect, showing at

any angle a relation to spiritual things, is therefore to be held

spiritual in a sense excluding the interference of the civil power,

there falls to the ground at once the whole fabric of civil authority

in any independent form. Accordingly, we are satisfied that the claim

to a spiritual jurisdiction, in collision with the claims of the state,

would not probably have offered itself to the ambition of the agitators,

otherwise than as a measure ancillary to their earlier pretension of

appointing virtually all parish clergymen. The one claim was found to

be the integration or _sine qua non_ complement of the other. In order

to sustain the power of appointment in their own courts, it was

necessary that they should defeat the patron's power; and, in order

to defeat the patron's power, ranging itself (as sooner or later it

would) under the law of the land, it was necessary that they should

decline that struggle, by attempting to take the question out of all

secular jurisdictions whatever.

In this way grew up that twofold revolution which has been convulsing

the Scottish church since 1834; first, the audacious attempt to disturb

the settled mode of appointing the parish clergy, through a silent

robbery perpetrated on the crown and great landed aristocracy; secondly,

and in prosecution of that primary purpose, the far more frantic attempt

to renew in a practical shape the old disputes so often agitating the

forum of Christendom, as to the bounds of civil and spiritual power.

In our rehearsal of the stages through which the process of induction

ordinarily travels, we have purposely omitted one possible interlude

or parenthesis in the series; not as wishing to conceal it, but for

the very opposite reason. It is right to withdraw from a

_representative_ account of any transaction such varieties of the

routine as occur but seldom: in this way they are more pointedly

exposed. Now, having made that explanation, we go on to inform the

Southern reader--that an old traditionary usage has prevailed in

Scotland, but not systematically or uniformly, of sending to the

presentee, through the presbytery, what is designated a '_call_,'

subscribed by members of the parish congregation. This call is simply

an invitation to the office of their pastor. It arose in the disorders

of the seventeenth century; but in practice it is generally admitted

to have sunk into a mere formality throughout the eighteenth century;

and the very position which it holds in the succession of steps, not

usually coming forward until _after_ the presentation has been notified

(supposing that it comes forward at all), compels us to regard it in

that light. Apparently it bears the same relation to the patron's act

as the Address of the two Houses to the Speech from the Throne: it is

rather a courteous echo to the personal compliment involved in the

presentation, than capable of being regarded as any _original_ act of

invitation. And yet, in defiance of that notorious fact, some people

go so far as to assert, that a call is not good unless where it is

subscribed by a clear majority of the congregation. This is amusing.

We have already explained that, except as a liberal courtesy, the very

idea of a call destined to be inoperative, is and must be moonshine.

Yet between two moonshines, some people, it seems, can tell which is

the denser. We have all heard of Barmecide banquets, where, out of

tureens filled to the brim with--nothings the fortunate guest was

helped to vast messes of--air. For a hungry guest to take this

tantalization in good part, was the sure way to win the esteem of the

noble Barmecide. But the Barmecide himself would hardly approve of a

duel turning upon a comparison between two of his tureens, question

being--which had been the fuller, or of two nihilities which had been

seasoned the more judiciously. Yet this in effect is the reasoning of

those who say that a call, signed by fifty-one persons out of a hundred,

is more valid than another signed only by twenty-six, or by nobody;

it being in the mean time fully understood that neither is valid in

the least possible degree. But if the '_call_,' was a Barmecide call,

there was another act open to the congregation which was not so.

For the English reader must now understand, that over and above the

passive and less invidious mode of discountenancing or forbearing to

countenance a presentee, by withdrawing from the direct 'call' upon

him, usage has sanctioned another and stronger sort of protest; one

which takes the shape of distinct and clamorous _objections_. We are

speaking of the routine in this place, according to the course which

it _did_ travel or _could_ travel under that law and that practice

which furnished the pleas for complaint. Now, it was upon these

'objections,' as may well be supposed, that the main battle arose.

Simply to want the 'call,' being a mere _zero_, could not much lay

hold upon public feeling. It was a case not fitted for effect. You

cannot bring a blank privation strongly before the public eye. 'The

"call" did not take place last week;' well, perhaps it will take place

next week. Or again, if it should never take place, perhaps it may be

religious carelessness on the part of the parish. Many parishes

notoriously feel no interest in their pastor, except as a quiet member

of their community. Consequently, in two of three cases that might

occur, there was nothing to excite the public; the parish had either

agreed with the patron, or had not noticeably dissented. But in the

third case of positive 'objections,' which (in order to justify

themselves as not frivolous and vexatious) were urged with peculiar

emphasis, the attention of all men was arrested. Newspapers reverberated

the fact: sympathetic groans arose: the patron was an oppressor: the

parish was under persecution: and the poor clergyman, whose case was

the most to be pitied, as being in a measure _endowed_ with a lasting

fund of dislike, had the mortification to find, over and above this

resistance from within, that he bore the name of 'intruder' from

without. He was supposed by the fiction of the case to be in league

with his patron for the persecution of a godly parish; whilst in reality

the godly parish was persecuting _him_, and hallooing the world _ab

extra_ to join in the hunt.

In such cases of pretended objections to men who have not been tried,

we need scarcely tell the reader, that usually they are mere cabals

and worldly intrigues. It is next to impossible that any parish or

congregation should sincerely agree in their opinion of a clergyman.

What one man likes in such cases, another man detests. Mr. A., with

an ardent nature, and something of a histrionic turn, doats upon a

fine rhetorical display. Mr. B., with more simplicity of taste,

pronounces this little better than theatrical ostenostentation. Mr.

C. requires a good deal of critical scholarship, Mr. D quarrels with

this as unsuitable to a rustic congregation. Mrs. X., who is 'under

concern' for sin, demands a searching and (as she expresses it) a

'faithful' style of dealing with consciences. Mrs. Y., an aristocratic

lady, who cannot bear to be mixed up in any common charge together

with low people, abominates such words as 'sin,' and wills that the

parson should confine his 'observations' to the 'shocking demoralization

of the lower orders.'

Now, having stated the practice of Scottish induction as it was formerly

sustained in its first stage by law, in its second stage by usage, let

us finish that part of the subject by reporting the _existing_ practice

as regulated in all its stages by law. What law? The law as laid down

in Lord Aberdeen's late Act of Parliament. This statement should,

historically speaking, have found itself under our _third_ head, as

being one amongst the consequences immediately following the final

rupture. But it is better placed at this point; because it closes the

whole review of that topic; and because it reflects light upon the

former practice--the practice which led to the whole mutinous tumult:

every alteration forcing more keenly upon the reader's attention what

had been the previous custom, and in what respect it was held by any

man to be a grievance.

This act, then, of Lord Aberdeen's removes all _legal_ effect from the

'_call_.' Common sense required _that_. For what was to be done with

patronage? Was it to be sustained, or was it not? If not, then why

quarrel with the Non-intrusionists? Why suffer a schism to take place

in the church? Give legal effect to the 'call,' and the original cause

of quarrel is gone. For, with respect to the opponents of the

Non-intrusionists, _they_ would bow to the law. On the other hand, if

patronage _is_ to be sustained, then why allow of any lingering or

doubtful force to what must often operate as a conflicting claim? 'A

call,' which carries with it any legal force, annihilates patronage.

Patronage would thus be exercised only on sufferance. Do we mean then,

that a 'call' should sink into a pure fiction of ceremony, like the

English _conge-d'elire_ addressed to a dean and chapter, calling on

them to elect a bishop, when all the world knows that already the see

has been filled by a nomination from the crown? Not at all; a _moral_

weight will still attach to the 'call,' though no legal coercion: and

what is chiefly important, all those _doubts_ will be removed by express

legislation, which could not but arise between a practice pointing

sometimes in one direction, and sometimes in another, between legal

decisions again upholding one view, whilst something very like legal

prescription was occasionally pleaded for the other. Behold the evil

of written laws not rigorously in harmony with that sort of customary

law founded upon vague tradition or irregular practice. And here, by

the way, arises the place for explaining to the reader that

irreconcilable dispute amongst Parliamentary lawyers as to the question

whether Lord Aberdeen's bill were _enactory_, that is, created a new

law, or _declaratory_, that is, simply expounded an old one. If

enactory, then why did the House of Lords give judgment against those

who allowed weight to the 'call?' That might need altering; _that_

might be highly inexpedient; but if it required a new law to make it

illegal, how could those, parties be held in the wrong previously to

the new act of legislation? On the other hand, if declaratory, then

show us any old law which made the 'call' illegal. The fact is, that

no man can decide whether the act established a new law, or merely

expounded an old one. And the reason why he cannot, is this: the

practice, the usage, which often is the law, had grown up variously

during the troubles of the seventeenth century. In many places political

reasons had dictated that the elders should nominate the incumbent.

But the ancient practice had authorized patronage: by the act of Queen

Anne (10th chap.) it was even formally restored; and yet the patron

in known instances was said to have waived his right in deference to

the 'call.' But why? Did he do so in courteous compliance with the

parish, as a party whose _reasonable_ wishes ought, for the sake of

all parties, to meet with attention? Or did he do so, in humble

submission to the parish, as having by their majorities a legal right

to the presentation? There lay the question. The presumptions from

antiquity were all against the call. The more modern practice had

occasionally been _for_ it. Now, we all know how many colorable claims

of right are created by prescription. What was the exact force of the

'call,' no man could say. In like manner, the exact character and limit

of allowable objections had been ill-defined in practice, and rested

more on a vague tradition than on any settled rule. This also made it

hard to say whether Lord Aberdeen's Act were enactory or declaratory,

a predicament, however, which equally affects all statutes _for removing

doubts_.

The 'call,' then, we consider as no longer recognised by law. But did

Lord Aberdeen by that change establish the right of the patron as an

unconditional right? By no means. He made it strictly a conditional

right. The presentee is _now_ a candidate, and no more. He has the

most important vote in his favor, it is true; but that vote may still

be set aside, though still only with the effect of compelling the

patron to a new choice. '_Calls_' are no longer doubtful in their

meaning, but '_objections_' have a fair field laid open to them. All

reasonable objections are to be weighed. But who is to judge whether

they _are_ reasonable? The presbytery of the district. And now pursue

the action of the law, and see how little ground it leaves upon which

to hang a complaint. Everybody's rights are secured. Whatever be the

event, first of all the presentee cannot complain, if he is rejected

only for proved insufficiency. He is put on his trial as to these

points only: 1. Is he orthodox? 2. Is he of good moral reputation? 3.

Is he sufficiently learned? And note this (which in fact Sir James

Graham remarked in his official letter to the Assembly), strictly

speaking, he ought not to be under challenge as respects the third

point, for it is your own fault, the fault of your own licensing courts

(the presbyteries), if he is not qualified so far. You should not have

created him a licentiate, should not have given him a license to preach,

as must have been done in an earlier stage of his progress, if he were

not learned enough. Once learned, a man is learned for life. As to the

other points, he may change, and _therefore_ it is that an examination

is requisite. But how can _he_ complain if he is found by an impartial

court of venerable men objectionable on any score? If it were possible,

however, that he should be wronged, he has his appeal. Secondly, how

can the patron complain? _His_ case is the same as his presentee's

case; his injuries the same; his relief the same. Besides, if _his_

man is rejected, it is not the parish man that takes his place. No;

but a second man of his own choice: and, if again he chooses amiss,

who is to blame for _that_? Thirdly, can the congregation complain?

They have a _general_ interest in their spiritual guide. But as to the

preference for oratory--for loud or musical voice--for peculiar views

in religion--these things are special: they interest but an exceedingly

small minority in any parish; and, what is worse, that which pleases

one is often offensive to another. There are cases in which a parish

would reject a man for being a married man: some of the parish have

unmarried daughters. But this case clearly belongs to the small

minority; and we have little doubt that, where the objections lay 'for

cause not shown,' it was often for _this_ cause. Fourthly, can the

church complain? Her interest is represented, 1, not by the presentee;

2, not by the patron; 3, not by the congregation; but 4, by the

presbytery. And, whatever the presbytery say, _that_ is supported.

Speaking either for the patron, for the presentee, for the congregation,

or for themselves as conservators of the church, that court is heard;

what more would they have? And thus in turn every interest is protected.

Now the point to be remarked is-that each party in turn has a separate

influence. But on any other plan, giving to one party out of the four

an absolute or unconditional power, no matter which of the four it

be--all the rest have none at all. Lord Aberdeen has reconciled the

rights of patrons for the first time with those of all other parties

interested. Nobody has more than a conditional power. Everybody has

_that_. And the patron, as necessity requires, if property is to be

protected, has, in all circumstances, the revisionary power.

II. _Secondly_, How _were these things don?_? By what means were the

hands of any party strengthened, so as to find this revolution possible?

We seek not to refine; but all moral power issues out of moral forces.

And it may be well, therefore, rapidly to sketch the history of

religion, which is the greatest of moral forces, as it sank and rose

in this island through the last two hundred years.

It is well known that the two great revolutions of the seventeenth

century--that in 1649, accomplished by the Parliament armies (including

its reaction in 1660), and secondly, that in 1688-9--did much to

unsettle the religious tone of public morals. Historians and satirists

ascribe a large effect in this change to the personal influence of

Charles II., and the foreign character of his court. We do not share

in their views; and one eminent proof that they are wrong, lies in the

following fact--viz., that the sublimest act of self-sacrifice which

the world has ever seen, arose precisely in the most triumphant season

of Charles's career, a time when the reaction of hatred had not yet

neutralized the sunny joyousness of his Restoration. Surely the reader

cannot be at a loss to know what we mean--the renunciation in one hour,

on St. Bartholomew's Day in 1662, of two thousand benefices by the

nonconforming clergymen of England. In the same year, occurred a similar

renunciation of three hundred and sixty benefices in Scotland. These

great sacrifices, whether called for or not, argue a great strength

in the religious principle at that era. Yet the decay of external

religion towards the close of that century is proved incontestably.

We ourselves are inclined to charge this upon two causes; first, that

the times were controversial; and usually it happens--that, where too

much energy is carried into the controversies or intellectual part of

religion, a very diminished fervor attends the culture of its moral

and practical part. This was perhaps one reason; for the dispute with

the Papal church, partly, perhaps, with a secret reference to the

rumored apostasy of the royal family, was pursued more eagerly in the

latter half of the seventeenth than even in any section of the sixteenth

century. But, doubtless, the main reason was the revolutionary character

of the times. Morality is at all periods fearfully shaken by intestine

wars, and by instability in a government. The actual duration of war

in England was not indeed longer than three and a half years, viz.,

from Edgehill Fight in the autumn of 1642, to the defeat of the king's

last force under Sir Jacob Astley at Stow-in-the-walds in the spring

of 1846. Any other fighting in that century belonged to mere insulated

and discontinuous war. But the insecurity of every government between

1638 and 1702, kept the popular mind in a state of fermentation.

Accordingly, Queen Anne's reign might be said to open upon an

irreligious people. The condition of things was further strengthened

by the unavoidable interweaving at that time of politics with religion.

They could not be kept separate; and the favor shown even by religious

people to such partisan zealots as Dr. Sacheverell, evidenced, and at

the same time promoted, the public irreligion. This was the period in

which the clergy thought too little of their duties, but too much of

their professional rights; and if we may credit the indirect report

of the contemporary literature, all apostolic or missionary zeal for

the extension of religion, was in those days a thing unknown. It may

seem unaccountable to many, that the same state of things should have

spread in those days to Scotland; but this is no more than the analogies

of all experience entitled us to expect. Thus we know that the instincts

of religious reformation ripened everywhere at the same period of the

sixteenth century from one end of Europe to the other; although between

most of the European kingdoms there was nothing like so much intercourse

as between England and Scotland in the eighteenth century. In both

countries, a cold and lifeless state of public religion prevailed up

to the American and French Revolutions. These great events gave a shock

everywhere to the meditative, and, consequently to the religious

impulses of men. And, in the mean time, an irregular channel had been

already opened to these impulses by the two founders of Methodism. A

century has now passed since Wesley and Whitefield organized a more

spiritual machinery of preaching than could then be found in England,

for the benefit of the poor and laboring classes. These Methodist

institutions prospered, as they were sure of doing, amongst the poor

and the neglected at any time, much more when contrasted with the deep

slumbers of the Established Church. And another ground of prosperity

soon arose out of the now expanding manufacturing system. Vast

multitudes of men grew up under that system--humble enough by the

quality of their education to accept with thankfulness the ministrations

of Methodism, and rich enough to react, upon that beneficent

institution, by continued endowments in money. Gradually, even the

church herself, that mighty establishment, under the cold shade of

which Methodism had grown up as a neglected weed, began to acknowledge

the power of an extending Methodistic influence, which originally she

had haughtily despised. First, she murmured; then she grew anxious or

fearful; and finally, she began to find herself invaded or modified

from within, by influences springing up from Methodism. This last

effect became more conspicuously evident after the French Revolution.

The church of Scotland, which, as a whole, had exhibited, with much

unobtrusive piety, the same outward torpor as the church of England

during the eighteenth century, betrayed a corresponding resuscitation

about the same time. At the opening of this present century, both of

these national churches began to show a marked rekindling of religious

fervor. In what extent this change in the Scottish church had been

due, mediately or immediately, to Methodism, we do not pretend to

calculate; that is, we do not pretend to settle the proportions. But

_mediately_ the Scottish church must have been affected, because she

was greatly affected by her intercourse with the English church (as,

_e.g._, in Bible Societies, Missionary Societies, &c.); and the English

church had been previously affected by Methodism. _Immediately_ she

must also have been affected by Methodism, because Whitefield had been

invited to preach in Scotland, and _did_ preach in Scotland. But,

whatever may have been the cause of this awakening from slumber in the

two established churches of this island, the fact is so little to be

denied, that, in both its aspects, it is acknowledged by those most

interested in denying it. The two churches slept the sleep of torpor

through the eighteenth century; so much of the fact is acknowledged

by their own members. The two churches awoke, as from a trance, in or

just before the dawning of the nineteenth century; this second half

of the fact is acknowledged by their opponents. The Wesleyan Methodists,

that formidable power in England and Wales, who once reviled the

Establishment as the dormitory of spiritual drones, have for many years

hailed a very large section in that establishment--viz., the section

technically known by the name of the Evangelical clergy--as brothers

after their own hearts, and corresponding to their own strictest model

of a spiritual clergy. That section again, the Evangelical section,

in the English church, as men more highly educated, took a direct

interest in the Scottish clergy, upon general principles of liberal

interest in all that could affect religion, beyond what could be

expected from the Methodists. And in this way grew up a considerable

action and reaction between the two classical churches of the British

soil. Such was the varying condition, when sketched in outline, of the

Scottish and English churches. Two centuries ago, and for half a century

beyond that, we find both churches in a state of trial, of turbulent

agitation, and of sacrifices for conscience, which involved every fifth

or sixth beneficiary. Then came a century of languor and the

carelessness which belongs to settled prosperity. And finally, for

both has arisen a half century of new light--new zeal--and, spiritually

speaking, of new prosperity. This deduction it was necessary to bring

down, in order to explain the new power which arose to the Scottish

church, during the last generation of suppose thirty years.

When two powerful establishments, each separately fitted to the genius

and needs of its several people, are pulling together powerfully towards

one great spiritual object, vast must be the results. Our ancestors

would have stood aghast as at some fabulous legend or some mighty

miracle, could they have heard of the scale on which our modern

contributions proceed for the purposes of missions to barbarous nations,

of circulating the Scriptures, (whether through the Bible Society,

that is the National Society, or Provincial Societies,) of translating

the Scriptures into languages scarcely known by name to scholars, of

converting Jews, of organizing and propagating education. Towards these

great objects the Scottish clergy had worked with energy and with

little disturbance to their unanimity. Confidence was universally felt

in their piety and in their discretion. This confidence even reached

the supreme rulers of the state. Very much through ecclesiastical

influence, new plans for extending the religious power of the Scottish

church, and indirectly of extending their secular power, were

countenanced by the Government. Jealousy had been disarmed by the

upright conduct of the Scottish clergy, and their remarkable freedom

hitherto from all taint of ambition. It was felt, besides, that the

temper of the Scottish nation was radically indisposed to all intriguing

or modes of temporal ascendency in ecclesiastical bodies. The nation,

therefore, was in some degree held as a guarantee for the discretion

of their clergy. And hence it arose, that much less caution was applied

to the first encroachment of the non-intrusionists, than would have

been applied under circumstances of more apparent doubt. Hence, it

arose, that a confidence from the Scottish nation was extended to this

clergy, which too certainly has been abused.

In the years 1824-5, Parliament had passed acts 'for building additional

places of worship in the highlands and islands of Scotland.' These

acts may be looked upon as one section in that general extension of

religious machinery which the British people, by their government and

their legislature, have for many years been promoting. Not, as is

ordinarily said, that the weight of this duty had grown upon them

simply through their own treacherous neglect of it during the latter

half of the eighteenth century; but that no reasonable attention to

that duty _could_ have kept pace with the scale upon which the claims

of a new manufacturing population had increased. In mere equity we

must admit--not that the British nation had fallen behind its duties,

(though naturally it might have done so under the religious torpor

prevalent at the original era of manufacturing extension,) but that

the duties had outstripped all human power of overtaking them. The

efforts, however, have been prodigious in this direction for many

years. Amongst those applied to Scotland, it had been settled by

Parliament that forty-two new churches should be raised in the

highlands, with an endowment from the government of [pound symbol]120

annually for each incumbent. There were besides more than two hundred

chapels of ease to be founded; and towards this scheme the Scottish

public subscribed largely. The money was intrusted to the clergy.

_That_ was right, but mark what followed. It had been expressly provided

by Parliament--that any district or circumjacent territory, allotted

to such parliamentary churches as the range within which the incumbent

was to exercise his spiritual ministration, should _not_ be separate

parishes for any civil or legal effects. Here surely the intentions

and directions of the legislature were plain enough, and decisive

enough.

How did the Scottish clergy obey them? They erected all these

jurisdictions into _bona fide_ 'parishes,' enjoying the plenary rights

(as to church government) of the other parishes, and distinguished

from them in a merely nominal way as parishes _quoad sacra_. There

were added at once to the presbyteries, which are the organs of the

church power, two hundred and three clerical persons for the chapels

of ease, and forty-two for the highland churches--making a total of

two hundred and forty-five new members. By the constitution of the

Scottish church, an equal number of lay elders (called ruling elders)

accompany the clerical elders. Consequently four hundred and ninety

new members were introduced at once into that particular class of

courts (presbyteries) which form the electoral bodies in relation to

the highest court of General Assembly. The effect of this change, made

in the very teeth of the law, was twofold. First, it threw into many

separate presbyteries a considerable accession of voters--_all owing

their appointments to the General Assembly_. This would at once give

a large bias favorable to their party views in every election for

members to serve in the Assembly. Even upon an Assembly numerically

limited, this innovation would have told most abusively. But the

Assembly was _not_ limited; and therefore the whole effect was, at the

same moment, greatly to extend the electors and the elected.

Here, then, was the machinery by which the faction worked. They drew

that power from Scotland rekindled into a temper of religious anxiety,

which they never could have drawn from Scotland lying torpid, as she

had lain through the eighteenth century. The new machinery (created

by Parliament in order to meet the wishes of the Scottish nation), the

money of that nation, the awakened zeal of that nation; all these were

employed, honorably in one sense, that is, not turned aside into private

channels for purposes of individuals, but factiously in the result,

as being for the benefit of a faction; honorably as regarded the open

mode of applying such influence--a mode which did not shrink from

exposure; but most dishonorably, in so far as privileges, which had

been conceded altogether for a spiritual object, were abusively

transferred to the furtherance of a temporal intrigue. Such were the

methods by which the new-born ambition of the clergy moved; and that

ambition had become active, simply because it had suddenly seemed to

become practicable. The presbyteries, as being the effectual electoral

bodies, are really the main springs of the ecclesiastical

administration. To govern _them_, was in effect to govern the church.

A new scheme for extending religion, had opened a new avenue to this

control over the presbyteries. That opening was notoriously unlawful.

But not the less the church faction precipitated themselves ardently

upon it; and but for the faithfulness of the civil courts, they would

never have been dislodged from what they had so suddenly acquired.

Such was the extraordinary leap taken by the Scottish clergy, into a

power, of which, hitherto, they had never enjoyed a fraction. It was

a movement _per saltum_, beyond all that history has recorded. At

cock-crow they had no power at all; when the sun went down, they had

gained (if they could have held) a papal supremacy. And a thing not

less memorably strange is, that even yet the ambitious leaders were

not disturbed; what they had gained was viewed by the public as a

collateral gain, indirectly adhering to a higher object, but forming

no part at all of what the clergy had sought. It required the scrutiny

of law courts to unmask and decompose their true object The obstinacy

of the defence betrayed the real _animus_ of the attempt. It was an

attempt which, in connection with the _Veto_ Act (supposing that to

have prospered), would have laid the whole power of the church at their

feet. What the law had distributed amongst three powers, patron, parish,

and presbyter, would have been concentrated in themselves. The _quoad

sacra_ parishes would have riveted their majorities in the presbyteries;

and the presbyteries, under the real action of the _Veto_, would have

appointed nearly every incumbent in Scotland. And this is the answer

to the question, when treated merely in outline--_How were these things

done_? The religion of the times had created new machineries for

propagating a new religious influence. These fell into the hands of

the clergy; and the temptation to abuse these advantages led them into

revolution.

III. Having now stated WHAT was done, as well as HOW it was done, let

us estimate the CONSEQUENCES of these acts; under this present, or

_third_ section, reviewing the immediate consequences which have taken

effect already, and under the next section anticipating the more remote

consequences yet to be expected.

In the spring of 1834, as we have sufficiently explained, the General

Assembly ventured on the fatal attempt to revolutionize the church,

and (as a preliminary towards _that_) on the attempt to revolutionize

the property of patronage. There lay the extravagance of the attempt;

its short-sightedness, if they did not see its civil tendencies; its

audacity, if they _did_. It was one revolution marching to its object

through another; it was a vote, which, if at all sustained, must entail

a long inheritance of contests with the whole civil polity of Scotland.

'Heu quantum, fati parva tabella vehit!'

It might seem to strangers a trivial thing, that an obscure court,

like the presbytery, should proceed in the business of induction by

one routine rather than by another; but was it a trivial thing that

the power of appointing clergymen should lapse into this perilous

dilemma--either that it should be intercepted by the Scottish clerical

order, and thus, that a lordly hierarchy should be suddenly created,

disposing of incomes which, in the aggregate, approach to half a million

annually; or, on the other hand, that this dangerous power, if defeated

as a clerical power, should settle into a tenure exquisitely democratic?

Was _that_ trivial? Doubtless, the Scottish ecclesiastical revenues

are not equal, nor nearly equal, to the English; still, it is true,

that Scotland, supposing all her benefices equalized, gives a larger

_average_ to each incumbent than England, of the year 1830. England,

in that year, gave an average of [pound symbol]299 to each beneficiary;

Scotland gave an average of [pound symbol]303. That body, therefore,

which wields patronage in Scotland, wields a greater relative power

than the corresponding body in England. Now this body, in Scotland,

must finally have been the _clerus_; but supposing the patronage to

have settled nominally where the Veto Act had placed it, then it would

have settled into the keeping of a fierce democracy. Mr. Forsyth has

justly remarked, that in such a case the hired ploughmen of a parish,

mercenary hands that quit their engagements at Martinmas, and _can_

have no filial interest in the parish, would generally succeed in

electing the clergyman. That man would be elected generally, who had

canvassed the parish with the arts and means of an electioneering

candidate; or else, the struggle would lie between the property and

the Jacobinism of the district.

In respect to Jacobinism, the condition of Scotland is much altered

from what it was; pauperism and great towns have worked 'strange

defeatures' in Scottish society. A vast capital has arisen in the west,

on a level with the first-rate capitalists of the Continent--with

Vienna or with Naples; far superior in size to Madrid, to Lisbon, to

Berlin; more than equal to Rome and Milan; or again to Munich and

Dresden, taken by couples: and, in this point, beyond comparison with

any one of these capitals, that whilst _they_ are connected by slight

ties with the circumjacent country, Glasgow keeps open a communication

with the whole land. Vast laboratories of encouragement to manual

skill, too often dissociated from consideration of character; armies

of mechanics, gloomy and restless, having no interfusion amongst their

endless files of any gradations corresponding to a system of controlling

officers; these spectacles, which are permanently offered by the _castra

stativa_ of combined mechanics in Glasgow and its dependencies (Paisley,

Greenock, &c.), supported by similar districts, and by turbulent

collieries in other parts of that kingdom, make Scotland, when now

developing her strength, no longer the safe and docile arena for popular

movements which once she was, with a people that were scattered and

habits that were pastoral. And at this moment, so fearfully increased

is the overbearance of democratic impulses in Scotland, that perhaps

in no European nation--hardly excepting France--has it become more

important to hang weights and retarding forces upon popular movements

amongst the laboring classes.

This being so, we have never been able to understand the apparent

apathy with which the landed body met the first promulgation of the

_Veto_ Act in May, 1834. Of this apathy, two insufficient explanations

suggest themselves:--1st, It seemed a matter of delicacy to confront

the General Assembly, upon a field which they had clamorously challenged

for their own. The question at issue was tempestuously published to

Scotland as a question exclusively spiritual. And by whom was it thus

published? The Southern reader must here not be careless of dates. _At

present_, viz. in 1844, those who fulminate such views of spiritual

jurisdiction, are simply dissenters; and those who vehemently withstand

them are the church, armed with the powers of the church. Such are the

relations between the parties in 1844. But in 1834, the revolutionary

party were not only _in_ the church, but (being the majority) they

came forward _as_ the church. The new doctrines presented themselves

at first, not as those of a faction, but of the Scottish kirk assembled

in her highest court. The _prestige_ of that advantage has vanished

since then; for this faction, after first of all falling into a

minority, afterwards ceased to be any part or section of the church;

but in that year 1834, such a _prestige_ did really operate; and this

must be received as one of the reasons which partially explain the

torpor of the landed body. No one liked to move _first_, even amongst

those who meant to move. But another reason we find in the conscientious

scruples of many landholders, who hesitated to move at all upon a

question then insufficiently discussed, and in which their own interest

was by so many degrees the largest.

These reasons, however, though sufficient for suspense, seem hardly

sufficient for not having solemnly protested against the _Veto_ Act

immediately upon its passing the Assembly. Whatever doubts a few persons

might harbor upon the expediency of such an act, evidently it was

contrary to the law of the land. The General Assembly could have no

power to abrogate a law passed by the three estates of the realm. But

probably it was the deep sense of that truth which reined up the

national resistance. Sure of a speedy collision between some patron

and the infringers of his right, other parties stood back for the

present, to watch the form which such a collision might assume.

In that same year of 1834, not many months after the passing of the

Assembly's Act, came on the first case of collision; and some time

subsequently a second. These two cases, Auchterarder and Marnoch,

commenced in the very same steps, but immediately afterwards diverged

as widely as was possible. In both cases, the rights of the patron and

of the presentee were challenged peremptorily; that is to say, in both

cases, parishioners objected to the presentee without reason shown.

The conduct of the people was the same in one case as in the other;

that of the two presbyteries travelled upon lines diametrically

opposite. The first case was that of _Auchterarder_. The parish and

the presbytery concerned, both belonged to Auchterarder; and there the

presbytery obeyed the new law of the Assembly; they rejected the

presentee, refusing to take him on trial of his qualifications: And

why? we cannot too often repeat--simply because a majority of a rustic

congregation had rejected him, without attempting to show reason for

his rejection. The Auchterarder presbytery, for _their_ part in this

affair, were prosecuted in the Court of Session by the injured

parties--Lord Kinnoul, the patron, and Mr. Young, the presentee. Twice,

upon a different form of action, the Court of Session gave judgment

against the presbytery; twice the case went up by appeal to the Lords;

twice the Lords affirmed the judgment of the court below. In the other

case of _Marnoch_, the presbytery of Strathbogie took precisely the

opposite course. So far from abetting the unjust congregation of

rustics, they rebelled against the new law of the Assembly, and

declared, by seven of their number against three, that they were ready

to proceed with the trial of the presentee, and to induct him (if found

qualified) into the benefice. Upon this, the General Assembly suspended

the seven members of presbytery. By that mode of proceeding, the

Assembly fancied that they should be able to elude the intentions of

the presbytery; it being supposed that, whilst suspended, the presbytery

had no power to ordain; and that, without ordination, there was no

possibility of giving induction. But here the Assembly had

miscalculated. Suspension would indeed have had the effects ascribed

to it; but in the mean time, the suspension, as being originally

illegal, was found to be void; and the presentee, on that ground,

obtained a decree from the Court of Session, ordaining the presbytery

of Strathbogie to proceed with the settlement. Three of the ten members

composing this presbytery, resisted; and they were found liable in

expenses. The other seven completed the settlement in the usual form.

Here was plain rebellion; and rebellion triumphant. If this were

allowed, all was gone. What should the Assembly do for the vindication

of their authority? Upon deliberation, they deposed the contumacious

presbytery from their functions as clergymen, and declared their

churches vacant. But this sentence was found to be a _brutum fulmen_;

the crime was no crime, the punishment turned out no punishment: and

a minority, even in this very Assembly, declared publicly that they

would not consent to regard this sentence as any sentence at all, but

would act in all respects as if no such sentence had been carried by

vote. _Within_ their own high Court of Assembly, it is, however,

difficult to see how this refusal to recognise a sentence voted by a

majority could be valid. Outside, the civil courts came into play; but

within the Assembly, surely its own laws and votes prevailed. However,

this distinction could bring little comfort to the Assembly at present;

for the illegality of the deposal was now past all dispute; and the

attempt to punish, or even ruin a number of professional brethren for

not enforcing a by-law, when the by-law itself had been found

irreconcilable to the law of the land, greatly displeased the public,

as vindictive, oppressive, and useless to the purposes of the Assembly.

Nothing was gained, except the putting on record an implacability that

was _confessedly_ impotent. This was the very lunacy of malice.

Mortifying it might certainly seem for the members of a supreme court,

like the General Assembly, to be baffled by those of a subordinate

court: but still, since each party must be regarded as representing

far larger interests than any personal to themselves, trying on either

side, not the energies of their separate wits, but the available

resources of law in one of its obscurer chapters, there really seemed

no more room for humiliation to the one party, or for triumph to the

other, than there is amongst reasonable men in the result from a game,

where the game is one exclusively of chance.

From this period it is probable that the faction of Non-intrusionists

resolved upon abandoning the church. It was the one sole resource left

for sustaining their own importance to men who were now sinking fast

in public estimation. At the latter end of 1842, they summoned a

convocation in Edinburgh. The discussions were private; but it was

generally understood that at this time they concerted a plan for going

out from the church, in the event of their failing to alarm the

Government by the notification of this design. We do not pretend to

any knowledge of secrets. What is known to everybody is--that, on the

annual meeting of the General Assembly, in May, 1843, the great body

of the Non-intrusionists moved out in procession. The sort of

theatrical interest which gathered round the Seceders for a few hurried

days in May, was of a kind which should naturally have made wise men

both ashamed and disgusted. It was the merest effervescence from that

state of excitement which is nursed by novelty, by expectation, by the

vague anticipation of a 'scene,' possibly of a quarrel, together with

the natural interest in _seeing_ men whose names had been long before

the public in books and periodical journals.

The first measure of the Seceders was to form themselves into a

pseudo-General Assembly. When there are two suns visible, or two moons,

the real one and its duplicate, we call the mock sun a _parhelios_,

and the mock moon a _paraselene_. On that principle, we must call this

mock Assembly a _para-synodos_. Rarely, indeed, can we applaud the

Seceders in the fabrication of names. They distinguish as _quoad sacra_

parishes those which were peculiarly _quoad politica_ parishes; for

in that view only they had been interesting to the Non-intrusionists.

Again, they style themselves _The Free Church_, by way of taunting the

other side with being a servile church. But how are they any church

at all? By the courtesies of Europe, and according to usage, a church

means a religious incorporation, protected and privileged by the State.

Those who are not so privileged are usually content with the title of

Separatists, Dissenters, or Nonconformists. No wise man will see either

good sense or dignity in assuming titles not appropriate. The very

position and aspect towards the church (legally so called) which has

been assumed by the Non-intrusionists--viz., the position of protesters

against that body, not merely as bearing, amongst other features, a

certain relation to the State, but specifically _because_ they bear

that relation, makes it incongruous, and even absurd, for these

Dissenters to denominate themselves a 'church.' But there is another

objection to this denomination--the 'Free Church' have no peculiar and

separate Confession of Faith. Nobody knows what are their

_credenda_--what they hold indispensable for fellow-membership, either

as to faith in mysteries or in moral doctrines. Now, if they reply--'Oh!

as to that, we adopt for our faith all that ever we _did_ profess when

members of the Scottish kirk'--then in effect they are hardly so much

as a dissenting body, except in some elliptic sense. There is a grievous

_hiatus_ in their own titledeeds and archives; they supply it by

referring people to the muniment chest of the kirk. Would it not be

a scandal to a Protestant church if she should say to communicants

--We have no sacramental vessels, or even ritual; but you may borrow

both from Papal Rome.' Not only, however, is the kirk to _lend_ her

Confession, &c.; but even then a plain rustic will not be able to guess

how many parts in his Confession are or may be affected by the

'reformation' of the Non-intrusionists. Surely, he will think, if this

reformation were so vast that it drove them out of the national church,

absolutely exploded them, then it follows that it must have intervened

and _indirectly_ modified innumerable questions: a difference that was

punctually limited to this one or these two clauses, could not be such

a difference as justified a rupture. Besides, if they have altered

this one or these two clauses, or have altered their interpretation,

how is any man to know (except from a distinct Confession of Faith)

that they have not even _directly_ altered much more? Notoriety through

newspapers is surely no ground to stand upon in religion. And now it

appears that the unlettered rustic needs two guides--one to show him

exactly how much they have altered, whether two points or two hundred,

as well as _which_ two or two hundred; another to teach him how far

these original changes may have carried with them secondary changes

as consequences into other parts of the Christian system. One of the

known changes, viz., the doctrine of popular election as the proper

qualification for parish clergymen, possibly is not fitted to expand

itself or ramify, except by analogy. But the other change, the infinity

which has been suddenly turned off like a jet of gas, or like the

rushing of wind through the tubes of an organ, upon the doctrine

and application of _spirituality_, seems fitted for derivative effects

that are innumerable. Consequently, we say of the Non-itrusionists--not

only that they are no church; but that they are not even any separate

body of Dissenters, until they have published a 'Confession' or a

_revised_ edition of the Scottish Confession.

IV. Lastly, we have to sum and to appreciate the _ultimate_ consequences

of these things. Let us pursue them to the end of the vista.--First

in order stands the dreadful shock to the National Church Establishment;

and that is twofold: it is a shock from without, acting through opinion,

and a shock from within, acting through the contagion of example. Each

case is separately perfect. Through the opinion of men standing

_outside_ of the church, the church herself suffers wrong in her

authority. Through the contagion of sympathy stealing over men _inside_

of the church, peril arises of other shocks in a second series, which

would so exhaust the church by reiterated convulsions, as to leave her

virtually dismembered and shattered for all her great national

functions.

As to that evil which acts through opinion, it acts by a machinery,

viz. the press and social centralization in great cities, which in

these days is perfect. Right or wrong, justified _or not_ justified

by the acts of the majority, it is certain that every public body--how

much more, then, a body charged with the responsibility of upholding

the truth in its standard!--suffers dreadfully in the world's opinion

by any feud, schism, or shadow of change among its members. This is

what the New Testament, a code of philosophy fertile in new ideas,

first introduced under the name of _scandal_; that is, any occasion

of serious offence ministered to the weak or to the sceptical by

differences irreconcilable in the acts or the opinions of those whom

they are bound to regard as spiritual authorities. Now here, in

Scotland, is a feud past all arbitration: here is a schism no longer

theoretic, neither beginning nor ending in mere speculation; here is

a change of doctrine, _on one side or the other_, which throws a sad

umbrage of doubt and perplexity over the pastoral relation of the

church to every parish in Scotland. Less confidence there must always

be henceforward in great religious incorporations. Was there any such

incorporation reputed to be more internally harmonious than the Scottish

church? None has been so tempestuously agitated. Was any church more

deeply pledged to the spirit of meekness? None has split asunder so

irreconcilably. As to the grounds of quarrel, could any questions or

speculations be found so little fitted for a popular intemperance? Yet

no breach of unity has ever propagated itself by steps so sudden and

irrevocable. One short decennium has comprehended within its circuit

the beginning and the end of this unparalleled hurricane. In 1834, the

first light augury of mischief skirted the horizon--a cloud no bigger

than a man's hand. In 1843, the evil had 'travelled on from birth to

birth.' Already it had failed in what may be called one conspiracy;

already it had entered upon a second, viz., to rear up an _Anti-Kirk_,

or spurious establishment, which should twist itself with snake-like

folds about the legal establishment; surmount it as a Roman _vinea_

surmounted the fortifications which it beleaguered; and which, under

whatsoever practical issue for the contest, should at any rate overlook,

molest, and insult the true church for ever. Even this brief period

of development would have been briefer, had not the law courts

interposed many delays. Demurs of law process imposed checks upon the

uncharitable haste of the _odium theologicum_. And though in a question

of schism it would be a _petitio principii_ for a neutral censor to

assume that either party had been originally in error, yet it is within

our competence to say, that the Seceders it was whose bigotry carried

the dispute to that sad issue of a final separation. The establishment

would have been well content to stop short of that consummation: and

temperaments might have been found, compromises both safe and honorable,

had the minority built less of their reversionary hopes upon the policy

of a fanciful martyrdom. Martyrs they insisted upon becoming: and that

they _might_ be martyrs, it was necessary for them to secede. That

Europe thinks at present with less reverence of Protestant institutions

than it did ten years ago, is due to one of these institutions in

particular; viz. to the Scottish kirk, and specifically to the minority

in that body. They it was who spurned all mutual toleration, all

brotherly indulgence from either side to what it regarded as error in

the other. Consequently upon _their_ consciences lies the responsibility

of having weakened the pillars of the reformed churches throughout

Christendom.

Had those abuses been really such, which the Seceders denounced, were

it possible that a primary law of pure Christianity had been set aside

for generations, how came it that evils so gross had stirred no whispers

of reproach before 1834? How came it that no aurora of early light,

no prelusive murmurs of scrupulosity even from themselves, had run

before this wild levanter of change? Heretofore or now there must have

been huge error on their own showing. Heretofore they must have been

traitorously below their duty, or now mutinously beyond it.

Such conclusions are irresistible and upon any path, seceding or not

seceding, they menace the worldly credit of ecclesiastical bodies.

That evil is now past remedy. As for the other evil, that which acts

upon church establishments, not through simple failure in the guarantees

of public opinion, but through their own internal vices of composition;

here undeniably we see a chasm traversing the Scottish church from the

very gates to the centre. And unhappily the same chasm, which marks

a division of the church internally, is a link connecting it externally

with the Seceders. For how stands the case? Did the Scottish kirk, at

the late crisis, divide broadly into two mutually excluding sections?

Was there one of these bisections which said _Yes_, whilst the other

responded _No_? Was the affirmative and negative shared between them

as between the black chessmen and the white? Not so; and unhappily not

so. The two extremes there were, but these shaded off into each other.

Many were the _nuances_; multiplied the combinations. Here stood a

section that had voted for all the changes, with two or three

exceptions; there stood another that went the _whole_ length as to

this change, but no part of the way as to that; between these sections

arose others that had voted arbitrarily, or _eclectically_, that is,

by no law generally recognised. And behind this eclectic school were

grouped others who had voted for all novelties up to a certain day,

but after _that_ had refused to go further with a movement party whose

tendencies they had begun to distrust. In this last case, therefore,

the divisional line fell upon no principle, but upon the accident of

having, at that particular moment, first seen grounds of conscientious

alarm. The principles upon which men had divided were various, and

these various principles were variously combined. But on the other

hand, those who have gone out were the men who approved totally, not

partially--unconditionally, not within limits--up to the end, and not

to a given day. Consequently those who stayed in comprehended all the

shades and degrees which the men of violence excluded. The Seceders

were unanimous to a man, and of necessity; for he who approves the

last act, the extreme act, which is naturally the most violent act,

_a fortiori_ approves all lesser acts. But the establishment, by parity

of reason, retained upon its rolls all the degrees, all the

modifications, all who had exercised a wise discretion, who, in so

great a cause, had thought it a point of religion to be cautious; whose

casuistry had moved in the harness of peace, and who had preferred an

interest of conscience to a triumph of partisanship. We honor them for

that policy; but we cannot hide from ourselves, that the very principle

which makes such a policy honorable at the moment, makes it dangerous

in reversion. For he who avows that, upon public motives, he once

resisted a temptation to schism, makes known by that avowal that he

still harbors in his mind the germ of such a temptation: and to that

scruple, which once he resisted, hereafter he may see reason for

yielding. The principles of schism, which for the moment were

suppressed, are still latent in the church. It is urged that, in quest

of unity, many of these men _succeeded_ in resisting the instincts of

dissension at the moment of crisis. True: But this might be because

they presumed on winning from their own party equal concessions by

means less violent than schism; or because they attached less weight

to the principle concerned, than they may see cause for attaching upon

future considerations; or because they would not allow themselves to

sanction the cause of the late Secession, by going out in company with

men whose principles they adopted only in part, or whose manner of

supporting those principles they abhorred. Universally it is evident,

that little stress is to be laid on a negative act; simply to have

declined going out with the Seceders proves nothing, for it is

equivocal. It is an act which may cover indifferently a marked hostility

to the Secession party, or an absolute friendliness, but a friendliness

not quite equal to so extreme a test. And, again, this negative act

may be equivocal in a different way; the friendliness may not only

have existed, but may have existed in sufficient strength for any test

whatever; not the principles of the Seceders, but their Jacobinical

mode of asserting them, may have proved the true nerve of the repulsion

to many. What is it that we wish the English reader to collect from

these distinctions? Simply that the danger is not yet gone past. The

earthquake, says a great poet, when speaking of the general tendency

in all dangers to come round by successive and reiterated shocks--

'The earthquake is not satisfied at once.'

All dangers which lie deeply seated are recurrent dangers; they

intermit, only as the revolving lamps of a light-house are periodically

eclipsed. The General Assembly of 1843, when closing her gates upon

the Seceders, shut _in_, perhaps, more of the infected than at the

time she succeeded in shutting _out_. As respected the opinion of the

world outside, it seemed advisable to shut out the least number

possible; for in proportion to the number of the Seceders, was the

danger that they should carry with them an authentic impression in

their favor. On the other hand, as respected a greater danger, (the

danger from internal contagion), it seemed advisable that the church

should have shut out (if she could) very many of those who, for the

present, adhered to her. The broader the separation, and the more

absolute, between the church and the secession, so much the less anxiety

there would have survived lest the rent should spread. That the anxiety

in this respect is not visionary, the reader may satisfy himself by

looking over a remarkable pamphlet, which professes by its title to

separate the _wheat from the chaff_. By the 'wheat,' in the view of

this writer, is meant the aggregate of those who persevered in their

recusant policy up to the practical result of secession. All who stopped

short of that consummation (on whatever plea), are the 'chaff.' The

writer is something of an incendiary, or something of a fanatic; but

he is consistent with regard to his own principles, and so elaborately

careful in his details as to extort admiration of his energy and of

his patience in research.

But the reason for which we notice this pamphlet, is, with a view to

the proof of that large intestine mischief which still lingers behind

in the vitals of the Scottish establishment. No proof, in a question

of that nature, _can_ be so showy and _ostensive_ to a stranger as

that which is supplied by this vindictive pamphlet. For every past

vote recording a scruple, is the pledge of a scruple still existing,

though for the moment suppressed. Since the secession, nearly four

hundred and fifty new men may have entered the church. This

supplementary body has probably diluted the strength of the

revolutionary principles. But they also may, perhaps, have partaken

to some extent in the contagion of these principles. True, there is

this guarantee for caution, on the part of these new men, that as yet

they are pledged to nothing; and that, seeing experimentally how

fearfully many of their older brethren are now likely to be fettered

by the past, they have every possible motive for reserve, in committing

themselves, either by their votes or by their pens. In _their_

situation, there is a special inducement to prudence, because there

is a prospect, that for _them_ prudence is in time to be effectual.

But for many of the older men, prudence comes too late. They are already

fettered. And what we are now pointing out to the attention of our

readers, is, that by the past, by the absolute votes of the past, too

sorrowfully it is made evident, that the Scottish church is deeply

tainted with the principles of the Secession. These germs of evil and

of revolution, speaking of them in a _personal_ sense, cannot be purged

off entirely until one generation shall have passed away. But, speaking

of them as _principles_ capable of vegetation, these germs may or may

not expand into whole forests of evil, according to the accidents of

coming events, whether fitted to tranquillize our billowy aspects of

society; or, on the other hand, largely to fertilize the many occasions

of agitation, which political fermentations are too sure to throw off.

Let this chance turn out as it may, we repeat for the information of

Southerns--that the church, by shutting off the persons of particular

agitators, has not shut off the principles of agitation; and that the

_cordon sanataire_, supposing the spontaneous exile of the

Non-intrusionists to be regarded in that light, was not drawn about

the church until the disease had spread widely _within_ the lines.

Past votes may not absolutely pledge a man to a future course of action;

warned in time, such a man may stand neutral in practice; but thus far

they poison the fountains of wholesome unanimity--that, if a man can

evade the necessity of squaring particular _actions_ to his past

opinions, at least he must find himself tempted to square his opinions

themselves, or his counsels, to such past opinions as he may too

notoriously have placed on record by his votes.

But, if such are the continual dangers from reactions in the

establishment, so long as men survive in that establishment who feel

upbraided by past votes, and so long as enemies survive who will not

suffer these upbraidings to slumber--dangers which much mutual

forbearance and charity can alone disarm; on the other hand, how much

profounder is the inconsistency to which the Free Church is

doomed!--They have rent the unity of that church, to which they had

pledged their faith--but on what plea? On the plea that in cases purely

spiritual, they could not in conscience submit to the award of the

secular magistrate. Yet how merely impracticable is this principle,

as an abiding principle of action! Churches, that is, the charge of

particular congregations, will be with _them_ (as with other religious

communities) the means of livelihood. Grounds innumerable will arise

for excluding or attempting to exclude, each other from these official

stations. No possible form regulating the business of ordination, or

of induction, can anticipate the infinite objections which may arise.

But no man interested in such a case, will submit to a judge appointed

by insufficient authority. Daily bread for his family is what few men

will resign without a struggle. And that struggle will of necessity

come for final adjudication to the law courts of the land, whose

interference in any question affecting a spiritual interest, the Free

Church has for ever pledged herself to refuse. But in the case supposed,

she will not have the power to refuse it. She will be cited before the

tribunals, and can elude that citation in no way but by surrendering

the point in litigation; and if she should adopt the notion, that it

is better for her to do _that_, than to acknowledge a sufficient

authority in the court by pleading at its bar, upon this principle

once made public, she will soon be stripped of everything, and will

cease to be a church at all. She cannot continue to be a depository

of any faith, or a champion of any doctrines, if she lose the means

of defending her own incorporations. But how can she maintain the

defenders of her rights, or the dispensers of her truths, if she

refuses, upon immutable principle, to call in the aid of the magistrate

on behalf of rights, which, under any aspect, regard spiritual

relations? Attempting to maintain these rights by private arbitration

within a forum of her own, she will soon find such arbitration not

binding at all upon the party who conceives himself aggrieved. The

issue will be as in Mr. O'Connell's courts, where the parties played

at going to law; from the moment when they ceased to play, and no

longer 'made believe' to be disputing, the award of the judge became

as entire a mockery, as any stage mimicry of such a transaction.

This should be the natural catastrophe of the case; and the probable

evasion of that destructive consummation, to which she is carried by

her principles, will be--that as soon as her feelings of rancor shall

have cooled down, these principles will silently drop out of use; and

the very reason will be suffered to perish for which she ever became

a dissenting body. With this, however, we, that stand outside, are

noways concerned. But an evil, in which we _are_ concerned, is the

headlong tendency of the Free Church, and of all churches adulterating

with her principle, to an issue not merely dangerous in a political

sense, but ruinous in an anti-social sense. The artifice of the Free

Church lies in pleading a spiritual relation of any case whatever,

whether of doing or suffering, whether positive or negative, as a

reason for taking it out of all civil control. Now we may illustrate

the peril of this artifice, by a reality at this time impending over

society in Ireland. Dr. Higgins, titular bishop of Ardagh, has

undertaken upon this very plea of a spiritual power not amenable to

civil control, a sort of warfare with Government, upon the question

of their power to suspend or defeat the O'Connell agitation. For, says

he, if Government should succeed in thus intercepting the direct power

of haranguing mobs in open assemblies, then will I harangue them, and

cause them to be harangued, in the same spirit, upon the same topics,

from the altar or the pulpit. An immediate extension of this principle

would be--that every disaffected clergyman in the three kingdoms, would

lecture his congregation upon the duty of paying no taxes. This he

would denominate passive resistance; and resistance to bad government

would become, in his language, the most sacred of duties. In any

argument with such a man, he would be found immediately falling back

upon the principle of the Free Church; he would insist upon it as a

spiritual right, as a ease entirely between his conscience and God,

whether he should press to an extremity any and every doctrine, though

tending to the instant disorganization of society. To lecture against

war, and against taxes as directly supporting war, would wear a most

colorable air of truth amongst all weak-minded persons. And these would

soon appear to have been but the first elements of confusion under the

improved views of spiritual rights. The doctrines of the _Levellers_

in Cromwell's time, of the _Anabaptists_ in Luther's time, would exalt

themselves upon the ruins of society, if governments were weak enough

to recognise these spiritual claims in the feeblest of their initial

advances. If it were possible to suppose such chimeras prevailing, the

natural redress would soon be seen to lie through secret tribunals,

like those of the dreadful _Fehmgericht_ in the middle ages. It would

be absurd, however, seriously to pursue these anti-social chimeras

through their consequences. Stern remedies would summarily crush so

monstrous an evil. Our purpose is answered, when the necessity of such

insupportable consequences is shown to link itself with that distinction

upon which the Free Church has laid the foundations of its own

establishment. Once for all, there is no act or function belonging to

an officer of a church which is not spiritual by one of its two Janus

faces. And every examination of the case convinces us more and more

that the Seceders took up the old papal distinction, as to acts

spiritual or not spiritual, not under any delusion less or more, but

under a simple necessity of finding some evasion or other which should

meet and embody the whole rancor of the moment.

But beyond any other evil consequence prepared by the Free Church, is

the appalling spirit of Jacobinism which accompanies their whole

conduct, and which latterly has avowed itself in their words. The case

began Jacobinically, for it began in attacks upon the rights of

property. But since the defeat of this faction by the law courts,

language seems to fail them, for the expression of their hatred and

affected scorn towards the leading nobility of Scotland. Yet why? The

case lies in the narrowest compass. The Duke of Sutherland, and other

great landholders, had refused sites for their new churches. Upon this

occurred a strong fact, and strong in both directions; first, for the

Seceders; secondly, upon better information _against_ them. The _Record_

newspaper, a religious journal, ably and conscientiously conducted,

took part with the Secession, and very energetically; for they denounced

the noble duke's refusal of land as an act of 'persecution;' and upon

this principle--that, in a county where his grace was pretty nearly

the sole landed proprietor, to refuse land (assuming that a fair price

had been tendered for it) was in effect to show such intolerance as

might easily tend to the suppression of truth. Intolerance, however,

is not persecution; and, if it were, the casuistry of the question is

open still to much discussion. But this is not necessary; for the

ground is altogether shifted when the duke's reason for refusing the

land comes to be stated; he had refused it, not unconditionally, not

in the spirit of non-intrusion courts, '_without reason shown,_' but

on this unanswerable argument--that the whole efforts of the new church

were pointed (and professedly pointed) to the one object of destroying

the establishment, and 'sweeping it from the land.' Could any guardian

of public interests, under so wicked a threat, hesitate as to the line

of his duty? By granting the land to parties uttering such menaces,

the Duke of Sutherland would have made himself an accomplice in the

unchristian conspiracy. Meantime, next after this fact, it is the

strongest defence which we can offer for the duke--that in a day or

two after this charge of 'persecution,' the _Record_ was forced to

attack the Seceders in terms which indirectly defended the duke. And

this, not in any spirit of levity, but under mere conscientious

constraint. For no journal has entered so powerfully or so eloquently

into the defence of the general principle involved in the Secession

(although questioning its expediency), as this particular _Record_.

Consequently, any word of condemnation from so earnest a friend, comes

against the Seceders with triple emphasis. And this is shown in the

tone of the expostulations addressed to the _Record_ by some of the

Secession leaders. It spares us, indeed, all necessity of quoting the

vile language uttered by members of the Free Church Assembly, if we

say, that the _neutral_ witnesses of such unchristian outrages have

murmured, remonstrated, protested in every direction; and that Dr.

Macfarlane, who has since corresponded with the Duke of Sutherland

upon the whole case--viz. upon the petition for land, as affected by

the shocking menaces of the Seceders--has, in no other way, been able

to evade the double mischief of undertaking a defence for the

indefensible, and at the same time of losing the land irretrievably,

than by affecting an unconsciousness of language used by his party

little suited to his own sacred calling, or to the noble simplicities

of Christianity. Certainly it is unhappy for the Seceders, that the

only disavowal of the most fiendish sentiments heard in our days, has

come from an individual not authorized or at all commissioned by his

party--from an individual not showing any readiness to face the whole

charges, disingenuously dissembling the worst of them, and finally

offering his very feeble disclaimer, which equivocates between a denial

and a palliation--not until _after_ he found himself in the position

of a petitioner for favors.

Specifically the great evil of our days, is the abiding temptation,

in every direction, to popular discontent, to agitation, and to

systematic sedition. Now, we say it with sorrow, that from no other

incendiaries have we heard sentiments so wild, fierce, or maliciously

democratic, as from the leaders of the Secession. It was the Reform

Bill of 1832, and the accompanying agitation, which first suggested

the veto agitation of 1834, and prescribed its tone. From all classes

of our population, in turn, there have come forward individuals to

disgrace themselves by volunteering their aid to the chief conspirators

of the age. We have earls, we have marquesses, coming forward as

Corn-League agents; we have magistrates by scores angling for popularity

as Repealers. But these have been private parties, insulated,

disconnected, disowned. When we hear of Christianity prostituted to

the service of Jacobinism--of divinity becoming the handmaid to

insurrection--and of clergymen in masses offering themselves as

promoters of anarchy, we go back in thought to that ominous organization

of irreligion, which gave its most fearful aspects to the French

Revolution.

Other evils are in the rear as likely to arise out of the _funds_

provided for the new Seceders, were the distribution of those funds

confessedly unobjectionable, but more immediately under the present

murmurs against that distribution. There are two funds: one subscribed

expressly for the building of churches, the other limited to the

'sustentation' of incumbents. And the complaint is--that this latter

fund has been invaded for purposes connected with the first. The reader

can easily see the motive to this injustice: it is a motive of ambition.

Far more display of power is made by the annunciation to the world of

six hundred churches built, than of any difference this way or that

in the comfort and decorous condition of the clergy. This last is a

domestic feature of the case, not fitted for public effect. But the

number of the churches will resound through Europe. Meantime, _at

present_, the allowance to the great body of Seceding clergy averages

but [pound symbol]80 a-year; and the allegation is--that, but for the

improper interference with the fund on the motive stated, it _would_

have averaged [pound symbol]150 a-year. If anywhere a town parish has

raised a much larger provision for its pastor, even _that_ has now

become a part of the general grievance. For it is said that all such

special contributions ought to have been thrown into one general

fund--liable to one general principle of distribution. Yet again, will

even this fund, partially as it seems to have been divided, continue

to be available? Much of it lies in annual subscriptions: now, in the

next generation of subscribers, a son will possibly not adopt the views

of his father; but assuredly he will not adopt his father's zeal. Here,

however (though this is not probable), there may arise some compensatory

cases of subscribers altogether new. But another question is pressing

for decision, which menaces a frightful shock to the schismatical

church: female agency has been hitherto all potent in promoting the

subscriptions; and a demand has been made in consequence--that women

shall be allowed to vote in the church courts. Grant this demand--for

it cannot be evaded--and what becomes of the model for church government

as handed down from John Knox and Calvin? Refuse it, and what becomes

of the future subscriptions?

But these are evils, it may be said, only for the Seceders. Not so:

we are all interested in the respectability of the national teachers,

whatever be their denomination: we are all interested in the maintenance

of a high standard for theological education. These objects are likely

to suffer at any rate. But it is even a worse result which we may count

on from the changes, that a practical approximation is thus already

made to what is technically known as Voluntaryism.

The '_United Secession_,' that is the old collective body of Scottish

Dissenters, who, having no regular provision, are carried into this

voluntary system, already exult that this consummation of the case

cannot be far off. Indeed, so far as the Seceders are dependent upon

_annual_ subscriptions, and coupling that relation to the public with

the great doctrine of these Seceders, that congregations are universally

to appoint their own pastors, we do not see how such an issue is open

to evasion. The leaders of the new Secession all protest against

Voluntaryism: but to that complexion of things they travel rapidly by

the mere mechanic action of their dependent (or semi-dependent)

situation, combined with one of their two characteristic principles.

The same United Secession journal openly anticipates another and more

diffusive result from this great movement; viz. the general disruption

of church establishments. We trust that this anticipation will be

signally defeated. And yet there is one view of the case which saddens

us when we turn our eyes in that direction. Among the reasonings and

expostulations of the Schismatic church, one that struck us as the

most eminently hypocritical, and ludicrously so, was this: 'You ought,'

said they, when addressing the Government, and exposing the error of

the law proceedings, 'to have stripped us of the temporalities arising

from the church, stipend, glebe, parsonage, but not of the spiritual

functions. We had no right to the emoluments of our stations, when the

law courts had decided against us, but we _had_ a right to the laborious

duties of the stations.' No gravity could refuse to smile at this

complaint--verbally so much in the spirit of primitive Christianity,

yet in its tendency so insidious. For could it be possible that a

competitor introduced by the law, and leaving the duties of the pastoral

office to the old incumbent, but pocketing the salary, should not be

hooted on the public roads by many who might otherwise have taken no

part in the feud? This specious claim was a sure and brief way to

secure the hatefulness of their successors. Now, we cannot conceal

from ourselves that something like this invidious condition of things

might be realized under two further revolutions. We have said, that

a second schism in the Scottish church is not impossible. It is also

but too possible that Puseyism may yet rend the English establishment

by a similar convulsion. But in such contingencies, we should see a

very large proportion of the spiritual teachers in both nations actually

parading to the public eye, and rehearsing something very like the

treacherous proposal of the late Seceders, viz., the spectacle of one

party performing much of the difficult duties, and another party

enjoying the main emoluments. This would be a most unfair mode of

recommending Voluntaryism. Falling in with the infirmities of many in

these days, such a spectacle would give probably a fatal bias to that

system in our popular and Parliamentary counsels. This would move the

sorrow of the Seceders themselves: for they have protested against the

theory of all Voluntaries with a vehemence which that party even

complain of as excessive. Their leaders have many times avowed, that

any system which should leave to men in general the estimate of their

own religious wants as a pecuniary interest, would be fatal to the

Christian tone of our national morals. Checked and overawed by the

example of an establishment, the Voluntaries themselves are far more

fervent in their Christian exertions than they could be when liberated

from that contrast. The religious spirit of both England and Scotland

under such a change would droop for generations. And in that one evil,

let us hope, the remotest and least probable of the many evils

threatened by the late schism, these nations would have reason by

comparison almost to forget the rest.