Book of the Month: Floreat Etona

 

Floreat Etona: Anecdotes and Memories of Eton College by Ralph Nevill is yet another book about Eton College, the elite public school in England that likes to see itself (even today) as the most famous school in the world.

Floreat Etona is the school’s motto and means ‘May Eton Flourish.’ The book was first published in 1911 and has been reproduced many times since. The original is out of copyright and is available online free-of-charge on several sites, including here.

In a chapter called ‘Dr. Keate - flogging and fighting,’ Nevill recalls the career of one of the most famous (notorious?) of Eton’s wardens, (aka ‘headmasters’).

Here are some extracts from the chapter to give a flavour. We met Keates before here.

Headmaster’s Room, showing Swishing Block and Birches.

 

When Keate became Headmaster in 1809, he found himself confronted by a somewhat difficult situation. A man of unflinching character, he had at first to suffer for the weakness of his predecessors and, owing to his stern methods, incurred unpopularity which it took some time to efface.

No one who had ever come in contact with Keate ever forgot him, for his appearance was exceedingly striking. He was a small man, little more than five feet high, short-necked, short-legged, thick-set, powerful, and very active, whilst within his small frame was concentrated the pluck of ten battalions. His countenance resembled that of a bull-dog, and he also had something of that animal’s mouth. Indeed, it was said in the school that old Keate could pin and hold a bull with his teeth. His iron sway was to many a very unpleasant change, after the long, mild reign of Dr. Goodall, whose temper, character, and conduct corresponded precisely with his name, and under whom Keate had been master of the Lower School. He was at first, there can be little doubt, too severe; discipline, wholesome and necessary in moderation, being carried by him to an excess; on one morning alone he is said to have flogged eighty boys. Flogging, indeed, may be said to have been the head and front, or rather the head and tail, of his system. Like Dr. Busby, the famous Headmaster of Westminster School, he never spoilt the child by sparing the rod. According to Dr. Johnson, Busby used to call that instrument of correction his sieve, and declare that whoever did not pass through it was no boy for him. Keate, although rigid, rough, and despotical, was on the whole not unjust, nor devoid of kindness, a proof of which is that, after twenty-five years, he retired fairly triumphant, applauded and respected by the vast majority of those with whom he had come in contact. During one of the frequent visits which he paid to Eton after his retirement, his grim old face was seen] looking down on the boats in Boveney Lock, whereupon the crews stood up and cheered their old master with a will …

Napoleonic Methods

Though, as has already been said, not much given to flogging boys under his immediate control, he was a firm believer in the efficacy of the birch for almost every kind of offence, and was quite ready to be a ruthless executioner in order to facilitate the work of his subordinates.

His methods were entirely Napoleonic, and when flogging boys who had committed some unusually heinous offence, by way of making an impression on their minds as well as their bodies, he used to accompany his infliction of punishment with a number of cutting remarks punctuated by strokes of the birch: “A disgrace to your friends” (swish, swish), “Ruin to your parents” (swish, swish, swish, swish), “You’ll come to the gallows at last!” and so forth.

Flogging at Eton was once described by the Edinburgh Review as “an operation performed on the naked back by the Headmaster himself, who is always a gentleman, and sometimes a high dignitary of the Church.”

The Eton boys of the past took their floggings very lightly. One of them having, it is said, been flogged by the Headmaster by mistake for another boy, though he knew that he had done nothing to deserve his castigation, made no attempt whatever to escape it. When, however, the real culprit was discovered an investigation took place, and the flogged one’s tutor then asked, “Why did you not explain to the Headmaster that you had never been complained of?”

“Well, sir,” was the reply, “I have been complained of so often that once more or less didn’t seem to matter much; besides, I thought that very likely some master I had forgotten about might have complained of me after all.”

Like many others, Fielding, a typical Englishman of a long-past age, was in after life proud of having been flogged. Alluding to Eton in his introduction to the thirteenth book of Tom Jones he says, “Thee in thy favourite fields, where the limpid, gently rolling Thames washes thy Etonian banks, in early youth I have worshipped. To thee, at thy birchen altar, with true Spartan devotion, I have sacrificed my blood.”

Refusing to go down

In later times, however, a certain number of boys have shown an invincible dislike of being birched, and some have actually preferred to undergo expulsion rather than kneel at the block. The 4th Marquis of Ailesbury (notorious for his follies) when a boy at Eton, having been complained of, ran away in order to avoid a punishment to which he declared he would never submit. This, I believe, happened twice, after which he was at last obliged to confront the Lower Master, who administered a certain number of strokes. On rising from the block, however, the irrepressible culprit made use of such language that his sojourn at Eton was at once cut short. In most cases, however, fear of expulsion has generally made those summoned to the block submit. A peculiar case was that of a boy high up in the school, and a well-known swell at athletics, who, going up to Oxford in order to matriculate, instead of returning to Eton directly the examination was over, outstayed his leave and remained for some days amusing himself with a Christchurch friend. As a consequent result, when he did return the voice of a praepostor was heard inquiring “Is —— in this division? He is to stay.” The culprit, who considered himself a grown man, at first stoutly declared that nothing would induce him to undergo a flogging, and it required a good deal of persuasion to make him realise that continued resistance would entail his going away from Eton without a leaving book; that is to say, practical expulsion, which is liable to injure a boy’s prospects in after life. Eventually, concluding that it would be best to submit, he duly paid the required visit to the library, where Dr. Balston officiated in a most sympathetic but efficient manner.

In rougher days, scapegraces used to make a flogging the occasion for all sorts of jokes. One boy, for instance, got a friend who had some knowledge of art to paint a rough portrait of the Headmaster on that portion of his body which has always been associated with the punishment of youth. When the Head was about to deliver his blows he was at first considerably taken aback by being confronted by his own likeness upon such an unconventional background. However, he rose to the occasion, and, with the aid of a couple of birches, completely obliterated all trace of any portrait.

In the case of big boys there is some humiliation in being flogged. A certain captain of the boats, who had indulged too freely in champagne, a very tall and powerful young man, about to be flogged by Dr. Hawtrey, begged hard that he should receive his punishment in private, and thus escape the degradation of being observed on the block by a large crowd of boys looking through the open door.[85] The Headmaster, however, would not hear of this for a moment, declaring that publicity was the chief part of the punishment.

 

First published by Macmillan and Co. (London), 1911

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