When the informer in the celebrated case of the Cato Street conspirators—an Italian image-man by trade, and a very clever one—made his appearance at Eton one day with a tray full of plaster busts of the well-known Doctor, cocked hat and all, Keate was very much annoyed to find that his likeness was selling like wildfire amongst the boys. There seemed to be only one way of preventing the wholesale popularisation of his dumpy figure, so, buying up what was left of the Italian’s stock, he had the figures taken to his backyard and broken up.
One or two boys had the temerity to personate Keate. Lord Douro, son of the Iron Duke, dressed in an exact copy of the Doctor’s robes and hat, actually painted the Headmaster’s door red one night, to the amazement of a few persons who saw him.
In some verse commemorating this feat, the watchmen were supposed to be summoned before a conclave of masters the next morning to describe what they had seen:—
“We both last night
Saw him—the Doctor—in his own cocked-hat,
His bands, his breeches, and his bombasine,
Paint his own door-post red.” Then great the wrath,
And great the marvel of that conclave; all
Turned their cold eyes on him, their dreaded chief,
Convicted on such damning evidence