James had taken Scotland only part of the way towards a unified British church; his son Charles has decided it is time to push the matter further.
With a self-assurance born of a unique kind of arrogance and political blindness, he has made no preparation for this fatal step other than to insist that it should be so.
In the worst possible circumstances, having alienated virtually all shades of opinion beyond the Episcopal party and not even troubling to consult his own Privy Council, in 1635 he had issued a royal warrant authorizing a new set of clerical rules—the Book of Canons—to be published the following year.
These new rules begin by emphasizing royal supremacy over the Church of Scotland and, in one of the most remarkable assertions of this supremacy, require the Church to accept a new Liturgy or Service Book sight unseen to replace the Book of Common Order, in use since the Reformation.
This Service Book is to be known by contemporaries and for centuries afterwards as 'Laud's Liturgy'.
In a sense this would seem to be psychologically appropriate, for the simple reason that it expresses a deep sense of national frustration at royal and Anglican arrogance.
In reality it is the work of a panel of Scottish bishops, anxious not to offend the sensibilities of the nation in the way that the straightforward use of the English Prayer Book—the favored solution of William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury—would have done.
Spottiswoode and at least some of his colleagues are far more sensitive to Scottish opinion than is often supposed.
Even so, the circumstances under which the Service Book was conceived and born could not have been worse, leading to all sorts of exaggerated rumors about its contents.
In a mood of fearful expectation the Privy Council manages to delay the first reading of the Book to the summer of 1637 but, on the insistence of the king, finally decrees that it will be read on Sunday, July 23, arguably one of the most fateful days in British history.
On the Sunday in question, St. Giles' Cathedral is packed.
Among the congregation are many serving women, seated on three-legged stools, keeping places for their mistresses.
To show support for the Prayer Book the members of the Privy Council are also present, with some ominous exceptions: John Stewart, 1st Earl of Traquair and lord high treasurer of Scotland, had said he had a prior engagement, and Lord Lorne had pleaded sickness.
When Dean John Hanna appears carrying a brown leather book the murmuring begins.
As soon as he starts to read, many people, led by the serving women, raise their voices in protest.
A stool is allegedly hurled at the unfortunate Hanna by one Jenny Geddes.
When David Lindsay, recently appointed Bishop of Edinburgh, tries to quiet the unseemly tumult, he is greeted with a variety of epithets, including one accusation that he is the son of the Devil and a witch.
