The occasion of his first work is fully stated in its preface. In September, 1666, the Rev. Geo. Meldrum, of Aberdeen, one of the leading ministers in northern Scotland, preached a sermon specially attacking the Quakers, towards whom he seems to have had a hatred not quite proportioned to his knowledge of them. He laid many grievous charges against them, but was suspiciously anxious that they should not get a copy of his discourse. Soon after this, proceedings were instituted to excommunicate Alexander Jaffray. But his friends raised the sound objection that no attempt had yet been made to reclaim him. So the bishop offered to confer with Jaffray in the presence of Meldrum and his colleague Menzies. But Jaffray, suspicious of one who could attack people in the dark, refused the interview unless he could have witnesses. "At length, Friends being objected to, Jaffray's brother and son who were not Friends were allowed to be present, when the Lord remarkably assisted him in declaring the truth, and defending himself and it against their unjust allegations." One result was that the Bishop directed Meldrum to give Friends a copy of the sermon preached against them, that they might reply to his statements. But instead of complying, Meldrum sent thirty Queries to be answered, and a paper entitled, "The state of the controversy between the Protestants and the Quakers." Jaffray was ill at the time, but George Keith on his behalf answered the Queries at once, and some time afterwards also replied to his paper, and to the sermon, of which they had at last obtained a copy from one of the congregation who heard it. No wonder that the future Apologist questions the honesty of the man who first condemns, and then makes enquiries, "that he might know in what things we did differ, and in what things we only seemed to differ." After giving the desired information, the Friends waited for two years for some reply, or otherwise for a retraction of the charges made. But they waited in vain. At last appeared a "Dialogue between a Quaker and a stable Christian," which Barclay ascribed to a William Mitchell, a neighbouring catechist with whom Patrick Livingstone had had some disputation. Upon him therefore Robert Barclay fell with all the energy of honest indignation, and with all the resources of a fertile and well stored mind. He entitled his book "Truth cleared of Calumnies." Though bearing the marks of a "prentice hand," many of the qualities of his later style are found in this production. William Penn says "It is written with strength and moderation." If the reader is disposed to question the moderation, he must remember the habits of the age.[14]
[14] There is in this work an interesting passage ("Truth Triumphant" pp. 29, 30), in which the view of singing held by the early Friends is set forth, which will correct some mistaken impressions. Barclay maintains "that singing is a part of God's worship, and is warrantably performed amongst the saints, is a thing denied by no Quaker so-called, and is not unusual among them, whereof I have myself been a witness, and have felt the sweetness and quickening virtue of the spirit therein, and at such occasions ministered." But they object to a mixed congregation of believers and unconverted persons singing words which in the mouths of many must be lies. (See also the Apology, Prop. II., paragraph 26, &c.)
But once launched on the stormy sea of controversy, there was no more rest for him. W. Mitchell acknowledged the authorship of the "Dialogue," and returned to the attack in some "Considerations." This drew forth in rejoinder "William Mitchell unmasked," published 1672. Here we find a more mature style, a fulness of matter, and an ease and power in statement, that are only excelled in the Apology. Says the writer in the Biographia Brittanica: "In this work our author discovers an amazing variety of learning; which shows how good a use he made of his time at Paris, and how thorough a master he was of the scriptures, the fathers, and ecclesiastical history; and with how much skill and judgment he applied them." And a recent writer says "Poor William Mitchell is not only unmasked but extinguished."
Some have imagined that Robert Barclay and his friend William Penn introduced into Quakerism a new, more reasonable, and more scholarly tone. But comparing the sixteen or eighteen years of Quakerism before these worthies accepted it, with the subsequent period when they have been supposed to affect its counsels, effectually disposes of this view. Neither in doctrine nor in practice is there any material difference. Quakerism had its scholars before them. Their pre-eminence was rather in popular gifts than in learning, and in statement and illustration of Quaker views rather than in their discovery or modification. As regards the positions of Quakerism that have given offence, Barclay and other scholarly converts accepted them in toto. They speak of the "apostacy" of the churches, and of Quakerism as the only true church. They speak boldly of the spiritual gifts of the brethren. They are severe on "hireling" priests. They argue that justification is one with sanctification. Most of the important passages referring to the authority of Holy Scripture, Barclay applies to the light within.
As to practice, nothing has more offended the proprieties of modern life than their imitations of the O. T. prophets, exhibiting themselves as signs. There is no reason to believe that any of the cultured Quakers of the day disapproved of these things; rather they rejoiced in them as part of the manifestation of the restored gifts of olden times. So far from Robert Barclay being superior to George Fox in this matter, he afforded one of the most striking instances on record. This was in 1672, and it happened thus. "On the 24th June, 1672, on awakening early in the morning, he seemed to see a great store of coined money that belonged to him lying upon his table; but several hands came and scattered it from him. Presently the scene appeared changed, and he was 'standing by a marish' filled with a rich yellow matter, which he went about eagerly to gather in his grasp, till plunging in over the ancles, he was like to sink in the bog; then one came and rescued him. This marsh, was the world, this matter was the world's goods; the whole thing was to him an intimation of love from the Lord, just as he was beginning more eagerly than before to concern himself in his outward affairs."[15] "The journey in sackcloth," says Mr. Gordon, "was the natural sequence of this impression." That it was "partly a penance of self-expostulation," as he further declares, we in no wise admit. We must take Barclay's own word for it that it was simply done in obedience to a clear conviction of a divine call. "The command of the Lord concerning this thing came unto me that very morning as I awoke, and the burden thereof was very great, yea, seemed almost unsupportable unto me; for such a thing until that very moment had never before entered me, not in the most remote consideration. And some whom I called to declare unto them this thing can bear witness how great was the agony of my spirit,—how I besought the Lord with tears that this cup might pass from me!—yea, how the pillars of my tabernacle were shaken, and how exceedingly my bones trembled, until I freely gave up unto the Lord's will." Truth Triumphant, p. 105.
[15] From the Bury Hill MSS., quoted in a remarkable article in the Theological Review of 1874, on "the Great Laird of Urie," by Alexander Gordon, M. A. The name and article suggest some family relationship with the Barclays.
The command was to go through three of the principal streets covered with sackcloth and ashes, calling the people to repentance. They would not listen to the voice within, nor heed the ordinary warnings of God-sent preachers. So he felt that in that terrible cross which God laid on him, He was making a more striking appeal in pity and love to their souls. He found that several of his friends approved of his obedience and were willing to go with him. So he took up his cross, and as he went on his strange errand, they felt constrained to join with him in calling the people to repentance. No sooner was the call obeyed than his soul was filled with peace. "I have peace with my God in what I have done, and am satisfied that his requirings I have answered in this thing." His heart overflows with love as he takes up his pen to explain his procedure, and to plead with them that his appeal might not be in vain. The address is a remarkable document, full of most tender pleading and loving remonstrance. No true minister of Jesus Christ can read it without being deeply stirred, and reminded of hours when his own spirit was clothed with sackcloth and ashes for those who would not heed his warnings.
Such soul-stirrings as this, coupled with his heart-felt experience of Scripture truth, must have made Robert Barclay an able minister of Jesus Christ. He seems to have been the teacher rather than the evangelist. Probably he could no more have done George Fox's work, than George Fox could have done his. Excellently as he often writes of evangelical truth, we miss in his pages the arousing, pungent appeals of his leader. Still at this and other times he seems to have felt powerful visitations of divine grace. His brethren also now enjoyed such a gracious season that at one of the "monthly meetings," the preliminary worship was prolonged for seven hours, and the business which should have received attention afterwards had to wait until the next month. The evidences of vigorous life on all hands were most encouraging. For instance, at one of their gatherings there appeared one John Forbes, merchant of Ellon, to claim their sympathy and advice. He had adopted the Quaker views of Christian worship, and consequently had forsaken the kirk. For this he had been cited before the Presbytery of Ellon. The Friends warmly sympathised with him, and determined that Robert Barclay and certain others of their number should go to Ellon on the next Sabbath and "keep a meeting" at his house. The crowd that gathered was too great to get indoors, and doors and windows were therefore thrown open that all might hear and unite in the worship. From this beginning, the good work went on regularly every Sunday, until John Forbes had to be commissioned to look out for some more convenient place of assembly, one half of the gathering not being able to gain admittance. We have very little information of the part which Robert Barclay took in these Christian services. He kept a diary, but it seems to have been lost.[16] The letters of his which have been preserved are few. The most vivid and life-like impressions of the man that remain are contained in his books. These with true Quaker appreciation of the value of facts, contain many autobiographical passages, and references to his experience. To him, as to all Friends, experience was the great matter. They waited on God for clear and living views of his truth. They recognised it not by logic, but by their trained spiritual instincts. Naturally, therefore, when addressing others by tongue or pen, they preferred to be experimental rather than argumentative. But the habits of the age compelled them to be dialecticians. They could only gain a hearing by so far yielding to the popular taste. But with amusing truthfulness, William Penn says of Barclay that he adopted the scholastic style in his Apology in condescension to the weakness of literary men.
[16] Is this amongst the Bury Hill MSS.? The extract quoted from the Theological Review looks like a passage from it.
But to him this adaptation was easier than to many Friends. He was a scholar and man of letters by habit and instinct. It was a necessity of his nature that he should see clearly the whole scope and logical inferences of his principles. His intellectual fearlessness is wonderful. His learning was not idle lumber in his mind. It bore some important relation, either of agreement or of antagonism, to his views, and to the arguments of his assailants. It was either light in which he could rejoice, or shadow which revealed some obstruction to the light, and threw out the light into bolder contrast. So learning had to him a real use and value; it was not counters but coins and the world of books was to him a very real world.