Charles did less than he might have done to allay the fears provoked by these policies. His political style made him particularly unlikely to cope well with dissent, especially when expressed immoderately, and this contributed to his difficulties. He was far less pragmatic than his father in political negotiation and his preference for religious order seems to have been related to a well-developed sense of the dignity of monarchy. The portraits painted by Van Dyke during the mid-1630s were and are the most recognizable images of Charles. The widely disseminated state portrait of 1636, while constrained by convention, conveys the same political image as the more freely composed portraits of the same period.51 It was surely an image he was eager to project. A short man, Charles was habitually portrayed from below in order to enhance his stature, but this also increases the impression of hauteur. He engages the viewer directly but coldly, suggesting perhaps a monarch willing to listen but also one who felt no obligation to agree or to act or persuade. In real life he certainly favoured a political style in which his concern for his subjects was exercised at some distance, and with regal dignity. In the face of turbulent politics in England in the late 1620s Charles had turned away from his people, refusing to resort to print to woo public opinion as his opponents were doing. During the 1630s his court, although open to a range of opinion and a variety of talents, was austere in its regality and concern for order. This was a monarch who strove for the good of his people, not their approval; and those who seemed too eager to court public opinion were disparaged as popular spirits, or seekers after a vain popularity.52
Portraits of Charles I from the 1630s
Since 1603, when James VI had succeeded to the English throne and moved to London, the Scots had grappled with life under an absentee monarch. This became a more serious problem under Charles, who was brought up in England and had not visited Scotland before 1633. He had a poor feel for Scottish affairs, and his personal style accentuated the problem. Notoriously, Charles launched a ‘Revocation’ scheme which aroused deep suspicion. Passed only months after his accession it reclaimed titles to lands sold or granted (alienated) from the crown since 1540. This was a variation on an established practice allowing kings when they came of age to recover lands alienated during their minority. In this case, however, the variations on this more or less clearly established practice all favoured the crown. Charles had not ruled as a minor, for example. There were problems of presentation too: Charles almost certainly intended to impose fines on these alienated lands, rather than to dispossess people, but he did not feel it necessary to offer this reassurance publicly. It was associated with an attempt to recover church lands alienated at the Reformation in order to re-endow the church, but here the vested interests of those who held those lands cut across their commitment to the well-being of the church. The Revocation raised almost no money, as the local commissioners fought trench warfare over the legal technicalities, and without particularly wanting to win. But the political cost in suspicion of the absentee king was significant. It may be that a fair-minded observer would see the problems as lying with Scottish perceptions as much as Charles’s intentions; but it was certainly the case that Charles was regarded with suspicion after this initiative.53
Charles was not just absent and distant in the more political sense – he was anglicized. This, of course, was a related problem and became all too evident on his coronation visit to Scotland – made eight years after his coronation in England. His journey through England lasted as long as his stay in Edinburgh, and his conduct in Scotland was altogether more stately and remote than was comfortable for his Scottish subjects. English manners were sufficiently widespread amongst the Scottish nobility to attract criticism but not so widespread as to secure approval.54 So too the religious ceremonies. Revealingly, however, Charles seems to have taken the absence of open hostility to this ceremonial as evidence that Scotland would stomach pressure to conform more closely to the English liturgy.55
His impatience with dissenting views was also manifest during his coronation visit, when he had received petitions calling for further reformation of one kind or another. A supplication was drawn up for presentation to Parliament concerning a mixture of religious and secular grievances, but was not presented to Charles since he had made it clear that he would disapprove. The following year, James Elphinstone, Lord Balmerino, was found to have a copy in his possession and was arrested for ‘lease-making’, that is, slandering the King or his council. This was perhaps an over-reaction, but even more startling was the sentence of death handed down on Balmerino. Worse still, it was only passed on the casting vote of the foreman of the jury, John Stewart, the Earl of Traquair, a close adviser of the King. Balmerino was pardoned in November 1636 but what was intended to terrify opposition into silence probably had a counter-productive effect: encouraging the thought that if possession of a copy of a supplication was treasonous then only more forceful expressions of dissent would suffice.56
Against the backdrop of these larger concerns, and of the reaction to the new canons of 1636, it is easier to understand the hostility aroused by the new Prayer Book ordered in October that year. This was to be the guide to worship in every parish of the kirk, the standard against which local practice should be held. Tinkering here was of concern to every informed Christian in Scotland, and there were plenty of them. It was indeed based on the English Prayer Book but had been much altered over two years of consultation between Charles, Laud and the Scottish bishops. That, of course, did little to smooth its path in some quarters.57 News that a new book was in preparation alerted the kirk to the imminence of reform without explaining its substance and gave plenty of time to imagine the worst. Many Scots seem to have been convinced of the evils of the book without actually having read it.58 In the months before the introduction of the book an effective campaign of meetings and then demonstrations was organized, which probably drew on contacts between malcontents stretching back for several years. Given the treatment of Balmerino, however, it is not surprising that traces of this organization are hard to find. Nonetheless, in late 1636 discussion was sufficiently public that evidence has survived. When parts of the book were read at a synod in Edinburgh it was said to contain popish errors and by early 1637 concerned parties were calling meetings specifically to discuss the new book. Writing much later, Henry Guthry claimed that a meeting took place in Cowgate, Edinburgh, in April 1637 between two radical ministers, Alexander Henderson and David Dickson, and various Edinburgh ‘matrons’. They had already consulted with Balmerino and the King’s advocate, Sir Thomas Hope, and prior to the meeting in Cowgate secured their approval for opposing the Prayer Book. Public demonstrations (to be led by women) were apparently planned against the first public use of the book and certainly by the early summer of 1637 synods and meetings of ministers were openly discussing it. In June the Scottish Privy Council was forced to threaten punishment for those who had failed to buy the book. The introduction of the book in Edinburgh was advertised a week in advance.59 As it turned out, this seems to have allowed time to co-ordinate protests by the disaffected.
On 23 July at St Giles in Edinburgh a distinguished group of worshippers, including privy councillors, a number of bishops and other dignitaries, joined a large congregation for a service to be held according to the new Prayer Book. As soon as the dean began to read, however, insults were thrown both at him and at the bishop. Some worshippers stood up and threw their stools before leaving the kirk. Women, perhaps including the Edinburgh matrons who had met with Henderson and Dickson, were prominent among the protesters. Although the service continued, there were disturbances outside and the bishop, on leaving the kirk, was stoned and pursued by the crowd. An afternoon service was held according to the new liturgy, apparently without incident, but the Bishop of Edinburgh was again pursued to Holyroodhouse in the Earl of Roxburgh’s coach, stoned all the way, and was said to have soiled himself as he reached safety. The dean, meanwhile, had taken refuge in the steeple. The Tolbooth kirk, which met i
n the partitioned west end of St Giles, also saw disturbances, and James Fairlie abandoned reading from the book. He too was pursued home by a cursing mob. Meanwhile, Henry Rollock, one of the more enthusiastic supporters of the new book, clearly sensed something was up. At Trinity kirk he was probably in the presence of particularly highly motivated protesters, and he decided not to begin reading until news of the reception in other kirks was in. Having heard about the disturbances elsewhere he made no attempt to use the book.60
The Prayer Book disturbances in Edinburgh
Ultimately, these disagreements touched on an unresolved tension over who was in charge of the Scottish kirk. The new Prayer Book was being promoted not only by Scottish bishops, but from England and by a monarch and his archbishop widely regarded in Scotland as unsound on religion. Many Scots apparently needed little convincing that a new Prayer Book promoted by these bodies, and these people, could only represent a retreat from reformation. For those afraid of Charles I’s policies, both in England and in Scotland, they evoked anxieties about the purity of the faith, about the boundaries of Protestantism and the encroachments of popery. In Scotland this boundary issue focused in particular on the role of bishops and the influence of English practices, and the introduction of the Prayer Book touched on deep fears about the future of reformation. These perceptions, and the heated rhetoric to which they gave rise, provided much of the energy for the subsequent Covenanting movement. But it was also driven by the ways in which Charles himself was perceived. Geographically and by personal style a distant monarch, Charles did little to soothe the feelings of his concerned subjects. When his policies were misunderstood, or evoked unreasonable fears, his instincts were authoritarian. He certainly seems to have felt no need to reassure – to do so would surely flirt with ‘popularity’; and few people have ever thought that Charles was a popular king.
The underlying religious tensions were common to much of Reformation Europe and they created potentially intersecting problems for Charles I. This protest would clearly be of comfort to English and Irish opponents of Laudianism. Other European states had been undone by religious rebellion, and other European monarchs had faced severe problems in governing multiple kingdoms. There were many who might have liked to throw a stool at their clerics, few who did not appreciate the significance of the gesture. John Castle wrote to the Earl of Bridgewater as this crisis unfolded: ‘the theatre for these kingdoms has now for a good while been chiefly placed at Edinburgh and what should be acted there hath been the expectation of all the Princes in Christendom, who are to frame the scene of their own interests accordingly’. It did not look good: ‘They will now behold… that in the last Act, all things are like to go off in perplexity and trouble’.61 There was certainly much more at stake for Charles than what his Scottish subjects did in church.
In the aftermath of the riots the Scottish Privy Council was divided and irresolute. There was little support for the King’s policy, except from the bishops, and even they were unconvinced by his political strategy. The King’s chief adviser in Scotland was the Earl of Traquair, who has suffered badly at the hands of his historians. Having risen to influence as Lord Treasurer as a result of his acumen, he was found wanting in political skill once he came to dominate the Privy Council. He was widely regarded as vain, bullying and so committed to his own advancement as to be untrustworthy both as an ally and as a source of information. In the ensuing crisis it is quite possible to demonstrate his duplicity. Although he had subscribed to the Five Articles of Perth he was no supporter of the King’s policy over the Prayer Book, and had squabbled with the bishops on the council for several years. It seems that he deliberately fed fears about the King’s intentions while exaggerating his own influence with the King, presumably in order to cement his position. Perhaps the most remarkable feature of his reputation was that he was suspected both of popery and also of having instigated the riots in Edinburgh – a singular achievement but not one that bears testimony to his political skills.62
Some people blamed Traquair for the way in which the introduction of the book had been handled. However, at a meeting of the council attended by him and his supporters there was more discussion of the failings of the bishops, a line of analysis which had a much wider resonance, of course. The King’s advisers were clearly feeling pressure from below and a subsequent petitioning campaign maintained the pressure on men who were palpably unwilling to face down the opposition. At the same time, however, the same men were unwilling to state their opinion clearly to Charles, since it was an opinion they were sure he did not want to hear. Their immediate response was to suspend further attempts to introduce the Prayer Book pending Charles’s response to their letter outlining the hostility of its reception. When it came, on 4 August, it was uncompromising, insisting on full implementation and the punishment of offenders. The Privy Council agreed half-hearted measures of suppression but also requested a personal audience with Charles in order to explain the full dimensions of the problem. They renewed their insistence that ministers would face punishment if they did not buy the book, but when this produced further petitions they made it clear that they were only enforcing purchase, not use. This was hardly the crackdown that Charles wanted.63
This pattern persisted over the next three months, as widely spaced and long-awaited meetings of the Privy Council were arranged in anticipation of the King’s replies to their letters. In advance of these meetings, which took place on 20 September, 17 October and 15 November, opponents of the Prayer Book were able to organize petitions and demonstrations at their leisure, so that at each meeting the councillors were clear that they were caught between two more or less immovable forces. As it went on, this petitioning campaign was able to muster impressive displays of solidarity. At the time of the meeting in October a ‘multitude’ gathered at the Tolbooth in Edinburgh, in ‘high mood’, threatening to lynch the council if they denied the crowd’s demand for the appointment of commissioners. On 15 November the meeting of the Privy Council was moved out of Edinburgh to try to relieve some of this pressure, although this effectively conceded the capital city to opponents of the Prayer Book.64
Clearly the management of this difficulty was less than ideal. The Scottish council was divided and there was competition among his councillors for the King’s ear, which centred on getting permission to attend him in person. Traquair was advising compromise both on the liturgy and on the role of the bishops in the process since, by September, many of the petitions were quite openly anti-episcopal in tone. Charles was reluctant to allow his councillors to come south since that would concede to his opponents that he was shaken by the protests, and when Traquair was eventually given permission to go to London it was publicly stated that it was because there was Exchequer business to discuss. Because of this reluctance Charles was in the hands of men locally, and unable to respond quickly to events on the ground. Possible solutions might have been to follow their advice, grant them more power, or put in place men to whom he would grant sufficient authority and whose judgement he would trust. In fact he did none of the above, preferring to put pressure on those on the spot to counter the pressure they were feeling from below.65
Whereas the response of the government was hesitant and slow-footed, the campaign of the opponents of the Prayer Book, now known as the Supplicants, was impressively effective. Little is known about the local history of this campaign and little can be said about how this impressive mobilization was achieved, but it clearly owes much to the Presbyterian organization of the kirk. Behind that lay the growing importance of the Scottish middling sort. The increasing economic power of a middling group of landholders found expression in the kirk sessions.66 Such men had been hostile to the Revocation scheme and a number of economic issues – taxation, monopolies and the proposal for a British fishery that would give English fishermen equal access to Scottish waters.67 Crucial too seems to have been the absence of a loyal reaction among the Scottish nobility. It was not until the autumn of 1638 that rivalri
es among the nobility began to create the possibilities for mobilizing a loyalist response. Here again, the nature of Charles’s government prior to 1637 seems to have been an important reason for the absence of a loyal reaction, particularly concerns about the exclusion of the nobility from political influence and the suspicions surrounding the Revocation.68 Another important factor in the developing solidarity and tactics of this campaign was the importance of ‘bands’ in Scottish politics and Covenant thinking in Scottish Protestantism, both of which offered means for the mobilization of nationwide religious campaigns.69
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