no man can decide whether the act established a new law, or merely
expounded an old one. And the reason why he cannot, is this: the
practice, the usage, which often is the law, had grown up variously
during the troubles of the seventeenth century. In many places political
reasons had dictated that the elders should nominate the incumbent.
But the ancient practice had authorized patronage: by the act of Queen
Anne (10th chap.) it was even formally restored; and yet the patron
in known instances was said to have waived his right in deference to
the 'call.' But why? Did he do so in courteous compliance with the
parish, as a party whose _reasonable_ wishes ought, for the sake of
all parties, to meet with attention? Or did he do so, in humble
submission to the parish, as having by their majorities a legal right
to the presentation? There lay the question. The presumptions from
antiquity were all against the call. The more modern practice had
occasionally been _for_ it. Now, we all know how many colorable claims
of right are created by prescription. What was the exact force of the
'call,' no man could say. In like manner, the exact character and limit
of allowable objections had been ill-defined in practice, and rested
more on a vague tradition than on any settled rule. This also made it
hard to say whether Lord Aberdeen's Act were enactory or declaratory,
a predicament, however, which equally affects all statutes _for removing
doubts_.

The 'call,' then, we consider as no longer recognised by law. But did
Lord Aberdeen by that change establish the right of the patron as an
unconditional right? By no means. He made it strictly a conditional
right. The presentee is _now_ a candidate, and no more. He has the
most important vote in his favor, it is true; but that vote may still
be set aside, though still only with the effect of compelling the
patron to a new choice. '_Calls_' are no longer doubtful in their