already made out, as he thought, his own case to be one of undue ecclesiastical Oppression on the part of his enemies, the conclusion was plain, that the king could lawfully release him from the spiritual sentence. He wound up his reasoning with the following supposition, to which, he well knew, James would not be insensible: "Beseeching your majesty to consider and weigh with your Highness' self, nobility, and council, how dangerous a thing it is to put such a sword in such men's hands, or to suffer them to usurp further than their duty; whereby it may come to pass, that as rashly and unorderly they have pretendedly excommunicated the first man of your majesty's parliament (albeit unworthy), so there rests nothing of their next attempt to do the same to your majesty's self." The king's pride was roused at such a thought, as well as his kingcraft for the restoration of Episcopacy, now at a stand through the jeopardy of his archbishop; and therefore he arrogantly required the ministers to rescind their sentence, threatening them with the deprivation of their rights and stipends in the event of a refusal. The General Assembly met in May the same year, when these conditions were proposed, and the members were in sore strait how to act in such a dilemma; for most of the restored lords, after being replaced in their possessions, had left the church to shift for itself. At length, a medium course was adopted by the Assembly, and that, too, only by a small majority. It was, that the archbishop "should be holden and repute in the same case and condition that he was in before the holding of the Synod of St Andrews, without prejudice, decerning, or judging anything of the proceedings, process, or sentence of the said synod." It was a strange decision, by which Adamson was allowed to teach, preach, and exercise his clerical functions, excommunicated though he still was; while the pulpits, by royal decree, were not only to be patent to his entrance, but the students of St Andrews were commanded to attend his lectures in the Old College as heretofore. This violence, as might be expected, produced counter-violence, so that libels were thrown not only into the archbishop's chamber, but the pulpits in which he officiated, threatening him with death for his intrusion. And as if all this had not been enough, he added to his further disqualifications, by inability to pay his debts, in consequence of which he was, according to the practice of the Scottish law, denounced a rebel, and put to the horn. This case was brought before the Assembly of June, 1587, because many people had demurred to attend his ministrations, while he laboured under such degrading disabilities. The Assembly, however, decided that these were of a civil, rather than an ecclesiastical character, and referred them to the ting for adjustment.
In the very same year and month, while Adamson was in this miserable plight—an excommunicated minister and an outlawed prelate the first man in the parliament, and yet a denounced rebel because he could not pay his debts—a gleam of royal sunshine fell upon him, which was destined to be the last. The celebrated Du Bartes visited Scotland; and James, delighted with the arrival of so distinguished a scholar and poet, received him with princely distinction, and entertained him as his guest. While they were in Fife, the king was desirous that Du Bartes should see the two most accomplished scholars in Scotland—and these were incontestibly to be found at St Andrews, in Andrew Melville and Patrick Adamson. Thither accordingly the royal cortege repaired; and the first notice which Melville had of the visit was from the king himself, who bluntly told him that he had come with the illustrious foreigner, to have a lesson from him in his class-room. Startled by such a brief warning, Melville
