Memories: Brutal prefect beating
The cane made a swishing sound before it struck my backside. I didn’t flinch. I had placed my head under the top end of the prep-room table exposing my pyjama’d bottom for an accurate strike by the Head of House, John Kitching, wielding the dreaded yellow-and-black Malacca cane known as ‘The Black Adder’. Four times that cane descended. End of beating – Martin Lewis recalls his time at Tonbridge School, Kent, England, in the 1950s.
I had entered the prep-room at 9 o’clock
at night with the six house prefects standing along the wall, nonchalantly
standing on grubbers (tuckboxes). Silent assassins. I stopped in the drying
room on the way back to the dormitory and composed myself. I was the first one
of our eight to be beaten, and the others wanted to see the results. They were
shocked to see huge bloody weals. They didn’t know what to do, but one of them
decided to take a photo for future reference, little knowing it would take 65
years to surface. That photo is as impressive now as it was then.
I had erred by accumulating three house
offences in a week – leaving the bath dirty, late for something and not
answering a ‘prep-room boy’ call. If anyone transgressed thus, the house praes
met, the housemaster was consulted and if permission was given, a beating
occurred. This did not happen frequently, I just lacked discipline.
Soon after, on my 14th birthday, a notice
went up in the School Hall summoning me to the School Praes Room at lunch-time.
This invariably meant a beating and it was now public knowledge. Before lunch
my history teacher Chas Bullock goaded me by saying ‘looking forward to your
appointment, Lewis?’ and later ‘must be something pretty serious’. Bastard.
Later that evening I was caned for breaching a school rule - going out on
Sunday without my barge (straw boater) to get a prae a paper. Six strokes
administered by the Head of School, the same John Kitching. During that first
year I was beaten five times. I achieved cult status without even trying. But I
soon found out that a silk square under my pyjama bottoms would help
considerably, so it no longer hurt.
Near the end of my fourth year I was
beaten again, wrongly, by Housemaster Stredder no less. This was the only time
the Housemaster had beaten anybody all the time I’d been there, so it had to be
a very serious offence. It wasn’t actually.
My study-mate Jackson and I had no prep,
exams were over. So we decided to play cards, using as counters his sixpences
saved up all term in a jam-jar. The Head of House burst in and accused us of
gambling. Despite our protestations we were caned- not only humiliating because
of our seniority, but also because we were innocent.
Jackson left two weeks later but I was due
to be made a prae the next term. It would be my last year, but it was
unprecedented for a boy who had been beaten so many times to become a prae.
However, on return I was duly promoted and thrived on the added responsibility.
Manor House was the toughest. We had
30-second cold showers at 0700 even when it was snowing. We had to do exercise
every afternoon, if you didn’t it was a beatable offence. If there wasn’t an
organized rugby or cricket game you had a choice of court games, hockey,
athletics, rowing or the house daily run. No exceptions. We were all very fit,
none of us were fat. There was a fagging system but there was absolutely no
bullying in Manor House.
Discipline was a very important part of
life. We all knew the rules, and obeyed them. Later, when I faced harsh times
at Army Officer training I was very grateful for the grounding I got at
Tonbridge, and even the caning. It made me more disciplined, efficient,
reliable, punctual, and readier for challenges. I am one of the few who support
caning because I responded to it well, it did me no harm and a lot of good.
After Tonbridge I never led an
undisciplined life.
Extracted from In
the Shadow of Empire, My Life in the Colonies,
by Martin Lewis.
Picture credit: The Magnet
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