Notwithstanding the abundance of the harvest, universally acknowledged a fortnight before by solemn religious rites, there was already some alarm beginning to arise about the future, chiefly in consequence of the very natural movements observed among possessors of and dealers in grain, for reserving the stock against |1699.| eventual demands. There now, therefore, appeared a proclamation forbidding export and encouraging import, the latter step being ‘for the more effectual disappointing of the ill practices of forestalled and regraters.’[[260]]
Dec. 7.
We have at this time a curious illustration of the slowness of all travelling in Scotland, in a petition of Robert Irvine of Corinhaugh to the Privy Council. He had been cited to appear as a witness by a particular day, in the case of Dame Marjory Seton, relict of Lewis Viscount of Frendraught, but he did not arrive till the day after, having been ‘fully eight days upon the journey that he usually made in three,’ in consequence of the unseasonableness of the weather, by which even the post had been obstructed. The denunciation against him for nonappearance was discharged.[[261]]
1700. Jan.
A case of a singular character was brought before the Court of Justiciary. In the preceding July, a boy named John Douglas, son of Douglas of Dornock, attending the school of Moffat, was chastised by his teacher, Mr Robert Carmichael, with such extreme severity that he died on the spot. The master is described in the indictment as beating and dragging the boy, and giving him three lashings without intermission; so that when ‘let down’ for the third time, he ‘could only weakly struggle along to his seat, and never spoke more, but breathed out his last, and was carried dying, if not dead, out of the school.’ Carmichael fled, and kept out of sight for some weeks, ‘but by the providence of God was discovered and seized.’
‘The Lords decerned the said Mr Robert to be taken from the Tolbooth of Edinburgh by the hangman under a sure guard to the middle of the Landmarket, and there lashed by seven severe stripes; then to be carried down to the Cross, and there severely lashed by six sharp stripes; and then to be carried to the Fountain Well, to be severely lashed by five stripes; and then to be carried back by the hangman to the Tolbooth. Likeas, the Lords banish the said Mr Robert furth of this kingdom, never to return thereto under all highest pains.’[[262]]
Robert Carmichael was perhaps only unfortunate in some constitutional weakness of his victim. An energetic use of the lash |1700.| was the rule, not the exception, in the old school—nay, even down to times of which many living persons may well say, ‘quæque miserrima vidi, et quorum pars magna fui.’ In the High School of Edinburgh about 1790, one of the masters (Nicol) occasionally had twelve dunces to whip at once, ranking them up in a row for the purpose. When all was ready, he would send a polite message to his colleague, Mr Cruikshank, ‘to come and hear his organ.’ Cruikshank having come, Mr Nicol would proceed to administer a rapid cursory flagellation along and up and down the row, producing a variety of notes from the patients, which, if he had been more of a scientific musician, he might have probably called a bravura. Mr Cruikshank was sure to take an early opportunity of inviting Mr Nicol to a similar treat.
Jan.
One of the most conspicuous persons at this time in Scotland—one of the few, moreover, known out of his own country, or destined to be remembered in a future age—was Dr Archibald Pitcairn. He practised as a physician in Edinburgh, without an equal in reputation; but he was also noted as a man of bright general talents, and of great wit and pleasantry. His habits were convivial, after the manner of his time, or beyond it; and his professional Delphi was a darkling tavern in the Parliament Close, which he called the Greping Office (Latinè, ‘Greppa’), by reason of the necessity of groping in order to get into it. Here, in addition to all difficulties of access, his patients must have found it a somewhat critical matter to catch him at a happy moment, if it was true, as alleged, that he would sometimes be drunk twice a day. It is also told of him that, having given an order at home, that when detained overnight at this same Greping Office, he should have a clean shirt sent to him by a servant next morning, the rule was on one occasion observed till the number of clean shirts amounted to six, all of which he had duly put on; but, behold, when he finally re-emerged and made his way home, the whole were found upon him, one above the other! Perhaps these are exaggerations, shewing no more than that the habits of the clever doctor were such as to have excited the popular imagination. It was a matter of more serious moment, that Pitcairn was insensible to the beauties of the Presbyterian polity and the logic of the Calvinistic faith—being for this reason popularly labelled as an atheist—and that, in natural connection with this frame of opinion, he was no admirer of the happy revolution government.
He had, about this time, written a letter to his friend, Dr Robert |1700.| Gray, in London; and Captain Bruce, a person attached to the service of the Duke of Hamilton, had sent it to its destination under a cover. It fell, in London, into the hands of the Scottish Secretary, Seafield, who immediately returned it to the Lord Chancellor in Edinburgh, as one of a dangerous character towards the government. The Lord Chancellor immediately caused Dr Pitcairn and Captain Bruce to be apprehended and put into the Tolbooth, each in a room by himself. On the letter being immediately after read to the Privy Council (January 16), they entirely approved of what had been done, and gave orders for a criminal process being instituted before them against the two gentlemen.