| 
       
      GLIMPSES OF THE RELIGIOUS LIFE OF SCOTLAND IN THE 
	  OLDEN TIME. 
	  BY REV. ALEX. MACMILLAN, TORONTO. 
	  
	  THE ancient city of S. 
	  Andrews has many charms. Indeed,
	  few places even in Scotland can yield more to the imagination and 
	  the mind. If you are in search of the picturesque you will find it here. 
	  You will find it in the rugged sea-beaten coast, crested by spires and 
	  towers and buildings great and small, beaten upon by the waves of the cold 
	  and stern North Sea. You will find it too within the city, in the quaint 
	  irregular streets of the older portion, the dwellings of the people broken 
	  again and again unexpectedly by fragments of the rare old architecture of 
	  the past in college, and monastery, and church. If you are in quest of 
	  knowledge the gates of the earliest of the Scottish universities are open 
	  to you, and the very atmosphere of history will be about you in the halls, 
	  and class-rooms, and college walks. Or you may be simply in search of a 
	  place of summer recreation. You can recreate your powers here in' truth, 
	  for are not the links of S. Andrews world. famed as the home of the 
	  ancient and royal game of golf, and do not the winds austere and pure from 
	  the North Sea brace you up as you tramp over the ground? And if there is 
	  anything in environment, in recreation, and there surely is, the very 
	  sight of the ancient little city famous in story ought to help you to 
	  drive the ball with a will. 
	  
	  But if you are a student of history, especially if 
	  you are of Scottish blood with an instinct for history, you will find S. 
	  Andrews a veritable treasure trove. You may take your stand on one of a 
	  number of spots, on the' old fisher quay, on the rocks that jut out to 
	  sea, or on the face of the cliffs above the rocks and the quay, and 
	  without changing your position you may read in the stone fragments about 
	  you the past religious history of Scotland. 
	  
	  There, half way up the cliff is a black hole, all 
	  that remains of a very ancient cave; above, a high square tower, built 
	  about by the walls of an ancient church; just beside it, occupying a great 
	  portion of the open ground, are broken pillars, broken walls, ragged 
	  masonry reared skyward, and with here and there windows telling of the 
	  presence of a once great cathedral; and, breasting the sea, as if growing 
	  out of the solid foundation rock, the rugged walls of a storm beaten 
	  castle. In these four memorials you may read the religious history of 
	  Scotland from the earliest Christian period to the time of the 
	  Reformation. I would carry you in thought to this ancient ecclesiastical 
	  capital, leaving out of view for the present the quest of the picturesque 
	  or any other purpose, and trying to read in these memorials the story of 
	  the past. 
	  
	  The cave on the face of the cliff 
	  first engages the attention. There is little within it to interest or 
	  attract, only the black rock around and above and the cold sea breeze 
	  blowing in, yet it is a place of greater importance than many a 
	  pretentious building, for here can be read on the rock walls one of the 
	  first pages in Scottish church history. The constant tradition testifies 
	  that here a man of God, Regulus or Rule by name, held communion with God, 
	  and from this humble place went out to teach the Gospel to the pagan 
	  natives. 
	  
	  When we make enquiry as to who he was, 
	  whence he came, and how he was led to this place, we are met by 
	  uncertainty. It is improbable that there is historic basis for the legend 
	  which tells of the coming of a monk of Constantinople of the fourth 
	  century who, bearing as a precious relic certain bones of the Apostle 
	  Andrew, was cast up on this stern coast. 
	  
	  More probable is the tradition which 
	  speaks of the Christian missionary as one from the Column- ban band of 
	  Iona; whether he belonged to the earlier period of missionary activity in 
	  Scotland, or to the later Columban brotherhood, the picture is fascinating 
	  and highly instructive. As we think of him in his solitary communion with 
	  God and in his active service for God, we are at one of the sources of the 
	  religious life of Scotland. As we trace the course of that influence from 
	  this and other fountains through the centuries we feel that the Cave of 
	  Regulus, weird and silent, is a great teacher. 
	  
	  But up there above the cliffs, like a 
	  sentinel on guard over the sea, is a high square tower. About this tower 
	  is built a simple little chapel, oblong, and with no architectural feature 
	  whatever. The sight of it at night when it rises black against a moonlit 
	  sky and moonlit sea, like the spirit of the past, is impressive. On these 
	  walls may be read the second page of the religious history of Scotland. It 
	  was named in honour of that Regulus of the earlier time. It is probably a 
	  "Culdee" church dating back even to the year 1000 A.D. The difficult 
	  question as to the relation of the Columban and Culdee activity in 
	  religious work in Scotland would carry us far beyond the limits of this 
	  sketch. This church, in brief, represented the Christianity which combined 
	  the activities of Columba and his disciples with other and previously 
	  independent labours. They were not "Roman Catholics." They did not 
	  acknowledge the authority of the Bishop of Rome. The form of government 
	  and order of divine service appears to have been in part Episcopal and in 
	  part akin to our Presbyterian order. Although corruptions crept into even 
	  this simple community, the chapel of S. Regulus was a light shining in a 
	  dark place, and within its walls many a rude native has listened to the 
	  Gospel message. Here we are at the heart of things, for S. Andrews is even 
	  now gradually taking its place as the ecclesiastical capital of the land. 
	  
	  But close to the tower of S. Regulus the 
	  ruins of a once great cathedral command attention. Here and there masses 
	  of masonry rise; here and there are bases and portions of massive pillars; 
	  here and there are portions of doorways and windows of the period of 
	  transition from the rounded Norman to the pointed Gothic. Nature, in 
	  kindness, spreads many a green leaf and much grass over the shattered 
	  wreck, for this is all that remains of the Metropolitan Church of 
	  Scotland. How came it to be here so close to the little chapel of S. 
	  Regulus, almost obliterating it by its magnificence? Two tides here 
	  met,the "Roman," powerful through the influence of the good Queen 
	  Margaret, the Saxon Princess of the eleventh century, who brought to the 
	  home of Malcolm Canmore the power the Rome, and the earlier Scottish known 
	  as the "Culdee." At first these two forces occupied the land independent 
	  of each other, but at last the earlier gradually passed out of sight and 
	  "Roman" Catholicism prevailed. On the walls of this cathedral, built in 
	  the fourteenth century, many a page in Scottish church history may be 
	  read. Amid the growing power and corruption of the priesthood the reformed 
	  teaching was beginning to be felt. About the year 1400 John or James Resby, 
	  an Englishman, under the spell perhaps of the work of John Wyclif, told 
	  the Gospel. In the year 1433 Paul Crawer (or Craw), a Bohemian physician, 
	  suffered martyrdom before the college gates because he would loyally 
	  proclaim the evangel. As the pride and corruption increased the power of 
	  the Reformation became more profoundly felt, and men listened to the dying 
	  testimony of the learned and nobly born Patrick Hamilton, as in 1527 he 
	  sealed his fidelity with his life. He died, but not in vain. "The reik of 
	  Patrick Hamilton (as one of the enemies of the Reformation said), infected 
	  as many as it blew upon." 
	  
	  At this point we turn from the cathedral 
	  and associate it with the storm-beaten castle. It may be that little of 
	  the actual building of the period immediately before the Reformation 
	  survives. But here the proud Cardinal Beaton dwelt, and here in 1546, 
	  looking from a window, he watched the burning of the saintly George 
	  Wishart. But this is not all. Amongst the refugees who occupied this 
	  castle after the tragic death of the Cardinal, one John Knox was found. He 
	  was urged to become their minister and leader. In this castle his decision 
	  was reached, and from this place he went forth and Scotland was free. 
	  
	  The children of the Scottish race at 
	  home and abroad cannot afford to forget these things. They may be made 
	  memorable by a visit to this grey city breasting the North Sea. The cave 
	  and the chapel, the cathedral and castle yield their stores to those who 
	  have sympathy and imagination and knowledge, and tell of the great things 
	  of the past and of the treasure handed down. 
  
	  DAFT Will Law was the descendant of an ancient 
	  family, and was often taken notice of by gentlemen. Posting through 
	  Kirkcaldy, he was met by Mr. Oswald, of Dunnikier. He asked him where he 
	  was going in such a hurry. "Going," says Will, with apparent surprise, 
	  "I'm gaun to my cousin, Lord Elgin's burial." 
	  "Your cousin Lord Elgin's burial, you fool. Lord Elgin's not dead," 
	  replied Mr. Oswald. "Deil ma care," said Will, "there's sax doctors oot o' 
	  Embro' at him, an' they'll hae him deid afore I win forrit." |