By Elizabeth McQuillan
Unwilling to tow the religious line, the staunch Presbyterian Church in Scotland proved to be an uncompromising adversary for Charles I when he tinkered with religious loyalties in Scotland during his reign in the 1600s.
Charles believed that he had the Divine Right of the Monarch, and was the high heid yin in all matters, whether of a state or spiritual nature. However the Kirk was at odds with this take on things and remained defiant that no man, not even a king, could be spiritual head of their church. Only Jesus Christ himself was truly qualified for that office.
Adamant that the unruly Scots should bend to English episcopacy (with crown-appointed bishops in situ), Charles issued a new prayer book that was to be embraced by all his subjects. Liturgy from The Book of Common Prayer was to be first read to the congregation at St Giles', in Edinburgh, in 1637.
With their minister in vestments, and much of the paraphernalia of a Catholic mass evident – and with the inclusion of kneeling mats for Holy Communion – this was never going to go down too well with those from the Kirk.
Dissent from the Sunday-best ranks was initiated by one lady market trader, Jenny Geddes, who allegedly hurled her cuttie-stool at the unfortunate minister who must have drawn the short straw that day:
“Deil colic the wame o’ ye, fause thief. Daur ye say Mass in my lug,” Geddes said. This translates to something like "May the devil make your bowels fart horribly, you lying thief. How very dare you expect me to listen to what is very obviously a Catholic mass."
So there ensured a bit of a rammy at the church, with the congregation chucked out on to the street by the city guard. Interestingly, and as an aside, upon reading of the incident 100 years later, Robert Burns gave the name Jenny Geddes to his mare, which he bought in Edinburgh for "over £4 Sterling".
The Church of Scotland retaliated in 1638 with the (somewhat anti-Papist) declaration known as the National Covenant. When put on display at Greyfriars church in Edinburgh, in excess of 60,000 people gathered to sign the declaration. From there it circulated around the country gathering support.
Wishing to quell the unrest in Scotland, Charles turned to his parliament to assist in raising funds, but they were unwilling to do so. A little later he endured an Irish revolt and – rather finally – lost his head in 1649.
Enter Charles II, still pursuing his father’s insistence on being the ecclesiastical Big Boy. He destroyed the Covenant and ejected unyielding ministers from their flocks, putting in their place individuals selected by the monarchy.
Still unwilling to conform, many Presbyterian ministers vacated their parish and took their preaching out of the church. These pastors prayed and preached in rather less conventional places. Fire and brimstone found its way into the fields, forest glades, hills and farm outbuildings of (mainly south-west) Scotland.
These field assemblies were known as convectiles, and accounted for a large portion of the missing congregation from churches under Episcopal authority. Considered a serious threat to public order, and a revolutionary hotbed, the monarchy was keen to punish the parishioners and ministers involved.
Convectiles were banned, followers rooted out, and those caught were tortured and carried the risk of being tried for treason. Every covenanter feared the ongoing persecution and the threat of interrogation, the leading question being: "Why don't you and your family attend the curate and pray for the King?" If persons were identified (and lists were often issued to the soldiers naming families that had been absent from the Kirk), appalling acts of torture could be meted out.
During the half-century of turmoil, convectiles grew to become well-organised and well-armed events – often attended at a few hours' notice. Within a natural amphitheatre on Skeoch Hill, west of Dumfries, with armed guards posted all around, four non-conformist ministers offered communion to a huge gathering (research sources vary and cite numbers from 3,000 to 14,000) of covenanters.
Large stones were lined up for use as communion tables, and the ministers who officiated were John Welsh, John Blackadder, John Dickson and Samuel Arnot. Today, the line of stones still stands. The novel Through Flood and Fire by R W McKenna vividly describes this event.
Unwilling to turn from their religion, these covenanters prayed and operated in great secrecy. Mass weddings and baptisms in local rivers were deftly organised, Holy Communion was delivered and they remained true to their own faith at an unforgiving time.
The risk associated with attending a convectile was high, but it is testament to the Covenanters' dedication – whether you share their ecclesiastical loyalties or not – to maintaining their religious right of freedom. The violence did not end until the Revolution Settlement in 1690.
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