It may be remembered how Sir Walter Scott,[129] on introducing Sir Mungo Malagrowther, of Girnigo Castle, to his readers, gives a graphic account of this custom. After narrating how he had been early attached to Court in the capacity of whipping-boy to King James VI., and trained to polite learning with his Majesty, by his celebrated preceptor, George Buchanan, he adds: “Under his stern rule--for he did not approve of the vicarious mode of punishment--James bore the penance of his own faults, and Mungo Malagrowther enjoyed a sinecure. But James’s other pedagogue, Master Patrick Young, went more ceremoniously to work, and appalled the very soul of the youthful king by the floggings which he bestowed on the whipping-boy when the royal task was not suitably performed. And be it told to Sir Mungo’s praise that there were points about him in the highest respect suited to his official situation. He had, even in youth, a naturally irregular and grotesque set of features which, when distorted by fear, pain, and anger, looked like one of the whimsical faces which present themselves in Gothic architecture. His voice was also high-pitched and querulous, so that when smarting under Master Peter Young’s unsparing inflictions, the expression of his grotesque physiognomy, and the superhuman yells which he uttered, were well suited to produce all the effects on the monarch who deserved the lash, that could possibly be produced by seeing another and an innocent individual suffering for his derelict.” We can easily understand that such a custom would afford our old dramatists abundant opportunity for enlivening their audience by the witty introduction of it, as they generally contrived to gain popularity for their performances by upholding or ridiculing any foolish usage of the time. In an old play, entitled “When You See Me, You Know Me,” the custom is thus noticed:-- “_Prince_ (_Edward VI._). Why, how now, Browne! What’s the matter? “_Browne._ Your grace loiters, and will not ply your book, and your tutors have whipped me for it. “_Prince._ Alas, poor Ned! I am sorry for it; I’ll take the more pains, and entreat my tutors for thee. Yet, in troth, the lectures they read me last night out of Virgil and Ovid I am perfect in, only I confess I am behind in my Greek authors. “_Will_ (_Summers_). And for that speech they have declined it upon his breech.”