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The Tragedy of Eveline Dowsett, 1872-1906

THIS POST IS CURRENTLY BEING UPDATED IN THE LIGHT OF FURTHER INFORMATION ABOUT EVELINE’S QUALIFICATIONS

Headlines in The Berkshire Chronicle, 11 December 1906. The identification as a ‘Lady B.A.’ reflects the rarity of women with degrees during this period

In December 1906, the driver of the 9:10pm train from Basingstoke to Reading noticed a sudden jerk as it passed under the Bath Road bridge where Berkeley Avenue now emerges onto the main road. Thomas Gauntlett, the Great Western driver thought little of it until he found blood and clothing under the tender on arriving at Reading Station.

A ticket collector was sent to investigate, and the body of a woman was found beneath the bridge. It was positioned in way that suggested she had lain across the rails. The deceased was identified as Eveline Marie Dowsett whose disappearance the same evening had already been notified to the police.

An article in The Berkshire Chronicle stated that she was a BA of Oxford who had taught at Reading High School and ‘Reading University College’ (see Note).

The Inquest

The Chronicle dwelt in detail on Eveline’s mental state. She had been distressed over the death of her sister Alice the previous March and had spent some time in an institution in Bath, although she had never been certified insane. On her return to Reading she had seemed much improved, but the family had been warned of suicidal tendencies.

Apparently, Eveline had also been deeply troubled by her lack of religious faith and this was reported by The Berkshire Chronicle as her being ‘A Victim of Religious Mania.’

Ellen Perkins, Eveline’s half-sister, quoted her as saying that she had wasted her life and blamed her disturbed condition on intensive study for examinations:

‘Nellie, I have not got the steady head you have; my head is rocky. I ought never to have gone in for these examinations; they have done all the harm. My brain is so excited; I shall never be right again.’ (The Berkshire Chronicle, 11 December 1906).

The Coroner recorded a verdict of suicide.

How much about her Life can be verified? 

Eveline was born in Brighton in 1872, but the 1881 census shows the Dowsett Family at ‘London Road Hatherley, Reading St Giles.’ By 1891 when Eveline was 9 they had relocated to 160 Castle Hill. Other members of the household were her father Arthur, a brewer, her younger sister Alice, their sister-in-law Ellen Perkins, as well as a cook and a footman.

The family was still living on Castle Hill during the 1901 census, but Eveline’s record card from University College, Reading shows her last known address to be Wellington House in King’s Road.

Reading High School

The Chronicle referred to Eveline teaching at Reading High School. Between 1887 and 1913, this was the name of today’s Abbey School on Kendrick Road. There is no record,  however, of Eveline having taught there, although it can’t be ruled out.

On the other hand, a Register of Old Girls in the school’s museum does list both Eveline and her younger sister Alice as pupils. The entry mentions an Oxford course in History as well as Reading’s University Extension College:

The Abbey School’s Register of Old Girls

I have found no record of her employment as a schoolteacher anywhere else, but the census return for 1891 reveal Eveline’s occupation as Student Teacher. It seems that she had already embarked on a long academic journey that took in her BA in 1895, a year’s tutoring at the University Extension College from 1897-98, and the Associateship of University College, Reading in 1902.

The BA from Oxford

Eveline passed her BA Honours in 1895 with a Class II degree in Modern History. According to the regulations at the time, ‘modern’ covered the period from the accession of Henry II and the death of Queen Anne.

Records of Eveline’s achievement can be found in the Annual Report of the Oxford Delegacy’s Examination for Women (see image below) as well as a handwritten entry in the Pass and Honours Register for Women.

Eveline’s BA result in the Annual Report of the Oxford Delegacy, 1895 (Bodleian Libraries, University Archives, OUA LE 110/2)

It can be seen from the image above that Eveline is the only student whose affiliation is the University Extension College, Reading. All the others, apart from one Home Student, are attached to one of the three women’s colleges. This means that Eveline had received all her teaching at Reading although, according to the Oxford Delegacy’s regulations published in the Annual Reports for 1887-1900, she would have travelled to Oxford for the final degree examinations.

Handwritten register of women’s passes including Eveline Dowsett’s BA (Bodleian Libraries, University Archives, OUA/LE/101)

Results of preliminary certificate examinations held at Reading show that Eveline demonstrated signs of being an outstanding scholar from the very beginning. The table below lists the early distinctions and prizes for History courses.

Examination results for Reading’s Extension Certificates (First Annual Report of the University Extension College, Reading, 1892-3)

Eveline’s achievement was celebrated in Reading’s Calendar (1995-6) the College Journal and the annual report of the Literary and Normal Department where it was hailed as:

‘The most conspicuous success obtained in this Department during the past session… Of the 190 students who were included in the list Miss Dowsett alone was not trained at Oxford.’ (Proceedings, 1894-95, p. 9)

It was extremely rare for a female student at Reading to be mentioned in the records of the Oxford Delegacy. I searched the reports from 1892, when University College, Reading was founded, to 1911 and found only two other examination passes for women: in 1901 Lilian M. Gunter passed Responsions (a preliminary examination unique to Oxford) in ‘Stated Subjects’; and in 1910  Evelyn A. Sharp passed the Preliminary Examination for Students of Music.

Teaching at the College

The Chronicle’s mention of Eveline’s teaching at the University Extension College can be confirmed. She did so during the academic year 1897-98. The College Calendar for that year (see below) shows that she had been allocated to the History Department under the guidance of W. M. Childs.  Her job description was ‘Assistant for Normal Classes’, in other words, training or educating teachers – from 1893-95 the Education section had been known as The Normal Department, a common label at the time for teacher training institutions.

Extract from the staff list in the College Calendar for 1897-98 showing Eveline Dowsett listed under History

Education was not yet such a key part of the College’s business as it would become in 1899 when the Board of Education recognised it as a Day Training College. Nevertheless, staff were already contributing to courses for Uncertified Assistant Teachers and Pupil Teachers. And it was to contribute to the latter that Eveline had been appointed. She taught Arithmetic, English and Reading to first- and second-years.

Part of the timetable for Pupil Teachers, 1897-98, showing Eveline’s responsibilities (University Extension College Calendar)
Associateship from Reading College

In 1898 the University Extension College was renamed Reading College, and the Gazette for May 1902 (see image below) shows that Eveline Dowsett had been awarded the ‘Diploma of Associateship in Letters’. Her record card reveals this to have been a Distinction.

According to the regulations for the period, this meant that Eveline would have:

      1. passed a Preliminary Examination in English, Arithmetic and two other subjects;
      2. attended full courses in 4 subjects for at least 2 sessions, satisfying examiners appointed by the Oxford University Extension Delegacy at the end of each year.
Notification of Eveline’s Associateship in 1902; these awards were presented formally in what was the equivalent of a small degree ceremony (Reading College Official Gazette, May 1902)

According to a blog published by the Bodleian Libraries, the Associate Diploma at Reading was particularly popular with students wanting to become teachers because the examinations were accepted by the Government’s Board of Education as equivalent to teacher training exams. I think we can assume, therefore that the Associateship was Eveline’s vehicle for obtaining a teaching qualification.

I probably haven’t been able to track down all the relevant documents, but an entry in Reading College’s annual report for 1899-1900 states that she had passed the Board of Education’s Certificate Examination with ‘Division I for Part I and Part II’ and ‘Drawing with Chalk upon the Blackboard: First Class.’ In the Associate Examinations she obtained a Distinction in Modern History and a Pass in French.

Oxford University’s archives hold mark sheets and examiners’ reports for Reading College, and a mark sheet for History of June 1900 has Eveline with the top mark of 80% in the Distinction  category:

University of Oxford. Lecturers’ and Examiners’ Reports, 1899-1900 (Bodleian Libraries, University Archives, OUA/CE/3/28/28)

Her result for French Language and Literature was not of the same standard, although she did pass comfortably:

University of Oxford. Lecturers’ and Examiners’ Reports, 1899-1900 (Bodleian Libraries, University Archives, OUA/CE/3/28/28)

As far as I can tell, this combination of History and French together with her Board of Education Examinations and practical teaching experience would have qualified her as a teacher. However, I have been unable to find evidence of a teaching career other than the unconfirmed suggestion in the Berkshire Chronicle that she taught at Reading High School.

Postscript

I haven’t found the location of Eveline’s grave, nor any obituary. The Berkshire Chronicle’s assertion that, ‘by all who knew her she was held in the highest esteem.‘ is a poor substitute.

In the absence of any formal tribute, I’ll finish this post by attaching the following celebration of her academic success that appeared in the college Journal in 1895:

Eveline’s BA is celebrated in the Journal of the University Extension College, Reading (No.1 October, 1895. Vol. II. page 4)

The awareness that her studies may have contributed to her eventual mental breakdown and suicide make this tragic affair all the more poignant.

Note

The names of the college that became the University of Reading in 1926 can be confusing: Reading’s University Extension College was founded in 1892; it became Reading College in 1898 and University College, Reading in 1902.

Thanks to

Dr Rhianedd Smith (Director of Academic Learning and Engagement, University Museums and Special Collections Services) for identifying this topic and passing on census material and the newspaper article.

The Abbey School for providing information about Eveline and her sister Alice from its records and for giving permission to reproduce it here.

Catherine McIlwaine (Archivist at the Bodleian Library, Oxford) for permission to reproduce images, making sources available and checking the accuracy of the post.

Sharon Maxwell (Archivist, University of Reading Special Collections) for advice and access to Eveline’s record card.

Georgie Moore, University of Reading Collections Officer, for information about women’s colleges and the history of women students at Oxford.

Sources

Childs, W. M. (1933). Making a university: an account of the university movement at Reading. London: J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd.

Hylton, R. (2007). A history of Reading. Chichester: Phillimore.

Lady B.A’s Suicide. (1906, December 11). The Berkshire Chronicle.

Reading College. Calendar, 1900-01, 1895-96.

Reading College. Official Gazette, No. 7, Vol. I. May 31st, 1902.

Reading College. Report of the Academic Board, 1899-1900.

University Extension College, Reading. Calendar, 1897-8.

University Extension College, Reading. Journal. No.1 October, 1895. Vol. II.

University Extension College, Reading. Annual Reports, 1892-93, 1893-94, 1894-95.

University of Oxford Delegacy of Local Examinations. Nineteenth Annual Report on the Oxford University Examination for Women for the Year 1895. Oxford Clarendon Press. (OUA LE 110/2 & 3).

University of Oxford. Examinations for Women Pass & Honours Register, Local Examinations Deligacy, 1888-1902. (OUA LE 101).

University of Oxford. Lecturers’ and Examiners’ Reports, 1899-1900. Continuing Education Series. (OUA CE 3/28/28)

University of Reading Special Collections. Student Record Card and Associate Record Card for Dowsett, Eveline, Marie.

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Walter Sickert and Patricia Cornwell

‘It’s bizarre to consider that Jack the Ripper was awarded an honorary doctorate from Reading University’ (Patricia Cornwell, 2017, Ripper: the Secret Life of Walter Sickert, p. 436)

Anyone reading my previous post about Walter Sickert’s degree ceremony  might wonder why, in 2002, a famous American thriller writer should  fund the conservation of Sickert’s drawings in the University’s art collection.

Café Chanteuse, c.1904, one of 18 drawings by Walter Sickert in the University of Reading Art Collection (UAC/10531)

The author in question is Patricia Cornwell, best known for her series of crime thrillers featuring Kay Scarpetta, a forensic expert and medical examiner. Following an invitation to tour Scotland Yard in 2001,  Cornwell became convinced that Walter Sickert was responsible for the Whitechapel murders, and has expounded on her theories in interviews, documentaries and three books.

Having once worked as an analyst for the Chief Medical Examination in Richmond, Virginia, she resolved to conduct a forensic investigation into Sickert’s connection to the Jack the Ripper cases:

‘Walter Sickert was connected with Jack the Ripper long before I appeared on the scene. I’m not the first one to think of him. But I’m the first to investigate him the same way we would a suspect today.’ (Cornwell, 2017, p. 448)

The Donation

Cornwell’s donation was news to me when I read about it in Naomi Lebens’ ‘Rubens to Sickert: the Study of Drawing’ (2021), but I remembered that in 2001 or 2002, Dr Sue Malvern, Senior Lecturer in the History of Art Department, had been approached by Cornwell while she was working in an archive somewhere. Dr Malvern remembers it like this:

‘The Cornwell story is fairly convoluted. I did meet her in an archive. I can’t remember exactly where, possibly the archives at the Tate. She was pursuing a theory that Walter Sickert was Jack the Ripper, and was there with her assistant. I’m not a Sickert scholar but suggested Anna Robins who is. Anna Robins appears in a BBC Omnibus programme, Patricia Cornwell Stalking the Ripper,  30 Oct 2002. It’s still available on iplayer. So it was a long time ago, but I’m sure that’s how Cornwell came to make a donation…‘ (Email, 26 April 2024)

Anna Gruetzner Robins, Professor Emerita in the School of Art at Reading, is a leading authority on the art of Walter Sickert who advised Cornwell during the latter’s research into the Ripper connection. The contribution of Professor Robins and her department has been acknowledged in Cornwell’s books – Robins is mentioned as part of Cornwell’s team – and, of course, through Cornwell’s donation to the Art Collection.

Woman Lying on a Couch (Study for Ennui, c.1912) by Walter Sickert (University of Reading Art Collection UAC/10524)
Cornwell’s Mission

Patricial Cornwell  has spared no expense in accumulating evidence for a link between Sickert and the murders and in identifying other possible victims. She has gathered together experts on Sickert, sex crimes, the history of art, forensic science and psychological profiling. She has overseen analyses of DNA, fingerprints, handwriting and writing paper and conducted simulated reconstructions of stabbing. She has gone to great lengths to root out coincidences and circumstantial evidence. These are hedged by frequent caveats in her books. Even by October 2002, she claimed to have spent over six million dollars in pursuit of her goal.

Her BBC Omnibus programme, ‘Stalking the Ripper’, is strongly autobiographical and addresses her motivation. Scotland Yard, she states, is too overwhelmed with recent crime to bother with historical cases, whereas she, Cornwell, has the time and resources to carry out what she refers to as ‘my crusade’:

‘…my mission is to bring about justice in the only way I know how which is to identify the person who did it.’

Controversy

It goes without saying that Cornwell’s views are highly controversial. Reviews of her books range from enthusiasm to total scepticism. After all, Sickert is only one of many suspects whose names have been put forward over the years. What seems a little worrying about Cornwell’s mission is her absolute, unwavering conviction and total commitment to proving her case

Professor Robins has herself commented on the claims that Sickert was the Whitechapel murderer. Originally in 1996, her position was that, ‘The case against Sickert is laughable’ (Robins, 1996, p. 32).

More recently, however, some two decades after the original collaboration, Professor Robins has published an overview of the most reliable evidence, though without a single mention of Cornwell: there appears to be no doubt that Sickert was obsessed with the murders and there is strong evidence that he was the author of letters purporting to come from the Ripper. Nevertheless she concludes that:

‘There is no proof that Sickert was Jack the Ripper and claims in books written on the subject cannot conclusively be verified…’ (Robins, 2017, p. 220)

Sickert’s identification with Jack the Ripper was deeply embedded in his psyche, but it does not mean that he was the killer… We will never know exactly why Sickert wrote those letters. Their confessional character, together with their taunting tone, is troublesome, but they could be part of a complicated game by a very complicated artist, who taunted ‘catch me if you can’. He was by no means the only one to confess to a crime that he did not commit.’ (Robins, 2017, p. 221)

Postscript

Cornwell’s books are not always a comfortable read; we are spared none of the gory details of the murders and of Sickert’s own affliction. In some ways these echo the moral outrage stirred up by the popular press of the time.

The Whitechapel murders have fascinated people for nearly 140 years. There are those, however, who are uncomfortable with the almost prurient focus on the killings themselves and the fixation on the identity of the perpetrator – an obsession that continues to this day.

At the same time, descendants of the murdered women have been expressing their own disappointment that the victims have simply been dismissed as common prostitutes who barely mattered (Sleator, 2025). Members of their families have been demanding an inquest in the light of DNA evidence suggesting the murderer was, in fact, a Polish barber called Aaron Kaminski, a conclusion that echoes that of the BBC’s ‘Jack the Ripper – The Case Reopened’ fronted by Emila Fox in 2019 (a programme that unequivocally exonerated Sickert).

It is interesting, therefore, that within the last few weeks the BBC has broadcast yet another documentary about the murders. The programme, in the series ‘Lucy Worsley Investigates’, bears the title ‘Jack the Ripper’  but has deliberately and overtly avoided any speculation about the Ripper’s identity. Instead, the focus is on the sensationalist press reporting, the moral panic, and particularly on the social conditions in Whitechapel where vulnerable, impoverished women could end up on the streets through no fault of their own.

The programme draws on research by the social historian Hallie Rubenhold whose book ‘The Five’ (referring to the ‘canonical five’ Ripper victims) has received critical acclaim for its compassionate insights into the lives of the murdered women and its rejection of previous popular stereotypes about the women as sex workers.

Thanks to:

Dr Hannah Lyons, Curator of University Art Collections, for permission to reproduce Sickert’s drawings; Dr Sue Malvern for confirming her original contact with Partricia Cornwell; Anna Gruetzner Robins, Professor Emerita in History of Art, for directing me to her chapter about Sickert and the Whitechapel murders.

Sources

Cornwell, P. (2002). Portrait of a killer: Jack the Ripper – case closed. London: Little Brown.

Cornwell, P. (2014). Chasing the Ripper. Seattle: Thomas & Mercer.

Cornwell, P. (2017). Ripper: the secret life of Walter Sickert. Seattle: Thomas & Mercer.

Lebens, N. (Ed.). (2021). Rubens to Sickert: the study of drawing. Reading: University of Reading.

Robins, A. G. (1996). Walter Sickert: drawings. Theory and practice: word and image. Aldershot: Scolar Press.

Robins, A. G. (2022). ‘Catch me if you can’: Sickert and Jack the Ripper. In E. Chambers (Ed.), Walter Sickert (pp. 220-22). London: Tate Publishing.

Rubenhold, H. (2019). The Five: the untold lives of the women killed by Jack the Ripper. London: Doubleday.

Sleator, L. (January 14 2025). Families of Jack the Ripper victims call for inquest ‘to show they mattered’. The Times, p. 17.

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A Random Recollection of Walter Sickert

Between August 1981 and January 1982 and again in November 1984, a small group of senior members of the University met on eight occasions to reminisce about their time at Reading.

The bulk of these discussions took place between Johnny Johnson, the Registrar and Tommy Sibly, Sub-Dean of the Faculty of Science. Other contributors were Keith Hodgson, Senior Administrative Assistant in the Registrar’s Office, and Professor ‘Perce’ Allen from Geology.

Most meetings took place in the Registrar’s office where they were recorded on reel-to-reel tape recorders, transcribed and published in a bound volume, probably in 1984.

University of Reading Special Collections

Although there is some structure to the collection, being organised under headings such as ‘people’, ‘events’ and ‘changes’, the term ‘random’ in the title is entirely appropriate. The content consists of anecdotes, hearsay, personal opinions, who was living with whom,  humorous slants on colleagues, and the like. There is much gossip, some of which seems rather malicious, and sometimes one has to be wary of what to treat as a true account.

Inside the front cover is a letter from Professor Cyril Tyler (Deputy Vice-Chancellor 1968-76) in which he states:

‘I have read the “Random Recollections …” and find them too biased to be valuable as a contribution to University history.’

He was particularly uneasy about subjective judgements concerning those colleagues selected for praise and those who were omitted. Attached to the letter is a three-page list of corrections and comments.

Nevertheless, the reminiscences are interesting, often amusing, and sometimes shocking even in consideration of the culture of the time. In spite of Professor Tyler’s reservations, the core of much of the content can be verified from other sources such as Professor Holt’s history of the University, archive material in the University’s Special Collections and autobiographies of some of the personalities mentioned. Nevertheless, no doubt some details have been embellished or exaggerated in the telling.

Johnny Johnson (left) and Tommy Sibly (right) reminiscing in the early 1980s (University of Reading Special Collections)

It is worth noting that Tommy Sibly was the son of Sir Franklin Sibly, Vice-Chancellor from 1929 to 1946, and so able to give the inside story on people and events that concerned his father.

Tommy Sibly (right) on the occasion of his retirement, 28 Sept 1989. On the left is Professor Monty Frey, Deputy Vice-Chancellor (University Bulletin, November 1989)

One narrative that amusingly delves well behind the scene of the official record is the story of how an honorary degree was awarded to the artist Walter Sickert.

Walter Richard Sickert(1860-1942)

By the 1930s Sickert was already regarded as one of the most prominent artists in the UK; according to Virginia Woolf writing in the 1930s,  he had ‘no illusions about his own greatness’ ( Robins, 2000, p. xxvii). In 1938 he was awarded an honorary DLitt by Reading University, the result of a close friendship with James Anthony Betts (1897-1980), Head of the Fine Art Department at Reading. On his appointment in 1933, Betts breathed new life into the department, prioritised the role of drawing, and both he and his department were heavily influenced by Sickert’s work.

Betts continue to lead Fine Art for another 30 years and during the 1950s  put together an impressive collection of drawings that included 18 works by Sickert. These were bought by the University from the Betts family in 1994, and in 2002 the Sickert drawings were conserved, funded by  a donation from Patricia Cornwell, the bestselling American thriller writer.

The Ceremony

The official account of Sickert’s Degree honoris causa, published in the Reading University Gazette reports that he was awarded his degree on 20 June 1938 alongside, among others, The Right Honourable Neville Chamberlain the then British Prime Minister.

The Deputy Vice-Chancellor, Professor Frank Stenton, presented each honorary graduand to the congregation with a short speech:

‘Mr. Chancellor, The work of RICHARD SICKERT cuts across all the usual categories of artistic discussion. In regard to him, the familiar distinction between traditionalism and modernity is meaningless; and artists who belong to the most widely divergent of schools are agreed in acknowledging the greatness of his achievement … In the international world of art he is acknowledged everywhere; examples of his work will be found in every gallery which truly represents the history of modern painting, and younger men in every continent have responded to the force of his example …’ (p. 48).

Anthony Betts and Walter Sickert at the Great Hall, 20June 1938 (reproduced with permission from the Betts’ Family Archive)
The Unofficial account

The above eulogy, no doubt put together by Professor Betts, makes no mention of Sickert’s eccentricities. The version constructed by Johnny Johnson and Tommy Sibly, on the other hand, takes delight in recounting his outrageous behaviour.

It seems that there was a tradition for the University to treat honorary graduands to a slap-up lunch in Wantage Hall with nothing spared. June 20, 1938 was no exception:

‘J[ohnson]. … Well, Sickert turned up at Wantage Hall dressed in a tweed jacket, grey flannels and carpet slippers, which was not quite the thing; nevertheless Sickert was Sickert and during the lunch he proceeded to get absolutely plastered, there’s no question about it. Halfway through the lunch … he spotted Sir Hugh Allen [a fellow honorary graduand], who was Director of Music [at Reading] at the time, right at the other end of the hall, but he persisted in having a conversation with Hugh Allen throughout the lunch. I’m told that at one stage, presumably towards the end of the lunch, they burst into song as they were old friends … So by the end of the lunch Sickert was really drunk, and everybody was getting a bit worried about what to do with him.’ (p. 151).

Fortunately, there was a hiccup in the arrangement for taxis to take participants from Wantage Hall down to the Great Hall on London Road. This gave Anthony Betts and John Waldie, lecturer in Agricultural Botany and the new Warden of Wantage, enough time to take Sickert into the Warden’s lodge, fill him with as much black coffee as he could take and put him into the last taxi.

By the time Sickert reached the hall, he was behaving himself until it was his turn to be admitted:

‘… it was fairly apparent that as he was standing up on the platform he was also swaying gently all through the speech! Then the real payoff  came … as he leaned across the mace to shake hands with Lord Templewood [then Samuel Hoare the University’s Chancellor] he just breathed into the microphone, “Bloody good lunch, wasn’t it?” (p.152).

At this point, Tommy Sibly takes up the story of the aftermath. Somehow they got Sickert to Reading Station:

‘… it was going to be very difficult getting him through the subway and up the steps the other side, so they got the luggage lift. I think it was while they were actually in the lift, or it might have been after they had got up to the top, Sickert suddenly said, “Oh Betts, I haven’t said goodbye to your wife” …. He had to be taken back to the luggage lift, and had to go up to Betts’ house and see Mrs Betts before he was finally dispatched.  (p. 152).

Caveat

It’s a good story! But let’s not forget that the event took place in 1938, some 43 years before Tommy Sibly and Johnny Johnson made their recording. Neither was present at the time; Johnson’s sources were John Waldie of Wantage Hall and Anthony Betts himself. The only doubt Johnson expressed about the veracity of the tale was to do with Sickert and Sir Hugh Allen Bursting into song. However, Sibly insisted that he had heard the same from his father.

So, at least the essence of the story appears to be true. Whether the same applies to all the details is another matter.

Sources

Betts’ Family Archive.

Holt, J. C. (1977). The University of Reading: the first fifty years. Reading: University of Reading Press.

Johnson, J. F. & Sibly, T. C. F. (c1984). Random Recollections of the University of Reading. Reading: University of Reading.

Lebens, N. (Ed.). (2021). Rubens to Sickert: the study of drawing. Reading: University of Reading.

Reading University Gazette, Vol. XI. No. 3. July 19, 1938.

Robins, A. G. (1996). Walter Sickert: drawings. Theory and practice: word and image. Aldershot: Scolar Press.

Robins, A. G. (Ed.). (2000). Walter Sickert: the complete writings on art. Oxford: OUP.

University of Reading. Bulletin, no. 227, November 1989.

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London Road’s L16: ‘The Tech Block’

Building L16 at London Road houses Campus Reception and the students’ Support Centre; it is also the administrative hub of the Institute of Education.

Main entrance to L16 at London Rd, August 2024. The ceramic pot on the left is a recent acquisition, one of two standing outside L16, and one of three funded by The Friends of the University of Reading

When I joined the School of Education at London Road in September 1987, my office was on the first floor of L16. It nestled between the display area and the lecture room of the Reading and Language Information Centre (RALIC) run by Betty Root MBE.

On the ground floor was Modern Languages led by Gordon Shute and Art Education with Fraser Smith and his colleagues James Hall and Richard Hickman. Gordon Shute also ran the Short Courses Office in what is now Campus Reception.

September 1987: Modern Languages Seminar Room; it is now G04 containing the Support Centre Administration Team

My office was large enough to accommodate a seminar group of 12 students, quite a luxury for a new lecturer. None of the offices had a computer until we received a portable Amstrad in the summer of 1988. There was no network; everything was transferred on 3.5″ floppy disks.

September 1987, almost certainly the present-day Room 108

Originally, I thought my old office was today’s Room 110, but having compared the brickwork and partition walls of Rooms 108, 110 and 112, I now believe it to have been 108, and that the original Reading Centre lecture room has been divided to form 110 and 112. Whatever the case, present staff in these three offices no longer have the luxury of ‘a room of one’s own’ – each is shared by two or three staff.

September 1987: the present-day Room 108. Behind me is the Reading Centre kitchen.

In 1989 the University merged with Bulmershe College of Higher Education and the Faculty of Education and Community Studies was formed. At some stage following Education’s departure from London Road to Bulmershe Court these rooms on the first floor were occupied by the Centre for British Teachers, by coincidence my previous employer.

August 2024: Support Centre, formerly Art Education

‘The Tech Block’

Two people who remember lecturing in L16 even before it housed the School of Education are the microbiologists Dr John Grainger and Dr Gillian Roberts (now Dr Gillian Grainger). According to John, it was known as ‘The Tech Block’ as a result of its previous history as the location for Commerce and Technical Subjects:

‘By 1957 when I came to Reading the term ‘Tech Block’ for L16 seemed to have been part of tradition in the London Road vocabulary since whenever. I guess it emerged when ‘Commerce’ was no longer part of the activities in L16 and ‘Tech’ was less of a mouthful in conversation than ‘Technical Subjects’ or similar.’ (Dr John Grainger, August 2024)

John Grainger, who later became head of Microbiology before it was absorbed into the School of Animal and Microbial Sciences, recalled that during his time in L16 academic staff were still obliged to wear gowns during their lectures. By about 1970, however, when his wife Gill was lecturing there, this requirement had ceased.

It was only this year that I realised the logic behind the numbering of the buildings at London Road. The earliest map I have found that shows the numbers is from 1977 (see post of 16 January 2024). The sequence begins in the north-east corner of the campus and moves in a clockwise direction round the site. L16, therefore, was originally the 16th building to the south on the east side. Thanks to so many buildings being demolished or knocked into one, however, the sequence is less transparent today.

Origins

In 1904 Alfred Palmer gifted the University College the grounds on which the buildings along the east cloister were soon to be constructed. A map of that year published in the College’s Official Gazette describes the southeastern section where L16 was to be situated as the Palmer Family’s paddock.

Before Palmer’s gift, the area had been rented by the College and was variously referred to on site plans as ‘The College Garden (for Horticultural Teaching and Practice’ (Calendar, 1902-3) and ‘Horticultural Ground’ (Childs, 1933).

The original architects’ plan produced by W. Ravenscroft and C. S. Smith and presented to Dr Childs, the College Principal in 1904, was reproduced in the Students’ Handbook in 1907. L16 is the building on the far left and, uniquely, is unlabelled.

map
The original plan for the campus of 1904 by Ravenscroft & Smith, Architects

Following the site’s construction, the first map on which L16 is discernible is a ‘Sketch Plan of Reading Shewing University College’ published in the College Calendar in 1906. A close-up of the campus section can be seen here:

Extract
Detail from the ‘Sketch Plan of Reading Shewing University College’, 1906

Occupants of the Building

As noted above, L16 was unlabelled on the architects’ plan. However, architects’ notes received by the College in 1907 refer to a Geography building that isn’t to be seen on the original plan. This can only be L16:

‘GEOGRAPHY. This building contains 2400 square feet, and comprises two large rooms for the use of commercial and geographical classes, a large room for typographical teaching, and private rooms for members of staff.

The basement storey adjoins the agricultural building and comprises a large boiler house and coal store. Into this basement all gas, water and electric light supplies are brought. Here the meters are fixed, and thence supplies are taken via the creeping way to the whole of the new buildings on the site.’  (Ravenscroft & Smith, 1906, pp. 7-8).

Note that ‘adjoins’ here does not mean that the buildings were attached, but simply that they were in close proximity to each other, as can be seen on the architects’ plan.

Later campus maps give us further information:

      • A ‘Development Plan’ of 1911 published a year later in the College Review describes the building as the ‘Commerce and Technical Block’;
      • A ‘Plan of Buildings on the Main Site’ of 1926 shows the occupants to be ‘Geography Commerce Domestic & Technical Subjects’;
      • Two different plans from 1929, both labelled ‘Plan Showing Existing Buildings and Proposed Extensions’ use the label, ‘Commerce and Technical Subjects’ (University Gazette, 1929; Special Collections UHC – PLANS Box 1);
      • A ‘Plan of Buildings on the Main Site’ from the early 1930s published in Smith & Bott’s (1992) pictorial history of the University includes the word ‘Domestic’ for the first time: ‘Domestic and Technical Subjects’;
      • Holt’s (1977) history of the University includes ‘The development plan for London Road, 1944‘ showing ‘Technical Subjects’; in addition, the word ‘Commerce’ has been crossed out and replaced by ‘Agriculture’;
      • An undated plan that was in use in 1977 and was found in the Christine Pullein-Thompson Collection, show the building in use for ‘Fine Art’ and ‘Food Science’ – by this time most departments had moved to Whiteknights and London Road was occupied by just five main departments:  The School of Education, Fine Art, Food Science, Microbiology and Soil Science.

With regard to the frequent references to Commerce, and Technical  and Domestic Subjects, these curricular areas have their origin in the evolution of the University from the Extension College of 1892 and its amalgamation with the Local Schools of Art and Science. As Holt (1977) points out, much of the teaching in 1926 when the Royal Charter was granted, was not at a level associated with other, more established universities.

Out of 1,656 students at Reading, only 306 were reading for a degree, less than half the number of evening class students. Because there had been simply nowhere else for non-degree students to go, they and their courses were incorporated lock, stock and barrel into the University.

L16 and the War Effort (1914-18)

In his memoir W. M. Childs reported that:

‘Throughout the war period, the College and those still at work within it busied themselves with many kinds of public service. For example, large quantities of munitions were made, and many hundreds of munitions-workers were trained. We exerted ourselves to stimulate locally the production of food. Our Voluntary Aid Detachment set up a hospital through which  passed more than 1300 wounded men ….’ (Childs, 1933, p. 218)

Annual reports of the period mention the Fine Art Department making ‘War Hospital appliances’ in the woodwork shop; Chemistry was making B[eta]-eucaine for the Admiralty, an early substitute for cocaine that was used as a local anaesthetic.

In 1916 it was noted that the training of munitions workers had been moved from the Physics building to larger rooms in the Commerce building (presumably L16) where new lathes, machines and an extra electric motor were installed. By the end of 1916, 157 men and women had been trained. During the course of their instruction they had produced 4,000 shell bases and 200 Maxim crosshead pins.

The Changing Shape of the Building

Today the shape of L16 is an almost perfect rectangle but it wasn’t always so. The image below shows the original plan and later changes to the east-facing wall (bottom right on each plan):

An early undated image in the Special Collections shows some differences from the modern building but these don’t correspond with the above diagrams, and, to date, I have been unable to find the  documentation that explain these and subsequent alterations.

Early image of Acacia Rd
Undated image of ‘Acacias Road’ (University of Reading Special Collections)

The east wall has since lost its lower window, and the chimney has been replaced. A close-up taken in 2024 shows three generations of brickwork suggesting an extension or major reconstruction:

L16’s east wall, August 2024

The join can be be seen more clearly on the north and south walls:

L16’s north wall, August 2024
L16’s south wall facing Acacia Road

Thanks to:

Ian Burn, John and Gillian Grainger and Dennis Wood for their contributions to this post.

Sources

Childs, W. M. (1933). Making a university: an account of the university movement at Reading. London: J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd.

Holt, J. C. (1977). The University of Reading: the first fifty years. Reading: University of Reading Press.

Ravenscroft, W. & Smith C. S. (1906), Notes by the Architects on the New Hall and Buildings. Special Collections, Ref: C Box 1466.

Reading University Gazette. Vol. II.  No. 2. March 21, 1929.

Smith, S. & Bott, M. (1992). One hundred years of university education in Reading: a pictorial history. Reading: University of Reading.

The Reading University College Review, Dec 1912, Vol V No. 13.

University College Reading. Calendars, 1902-3, 1906-7.

University College, Reading. Official Gazette. No 34. Vol. III. 22nd February, 1904.

University College, Reading. Reports of the Council, 1914-15, 1915-16, 1916-17.

University College Reading (1907). Students’ handbook. First issue: 1907-8.

University of Reading (1929). Plan Showing Existing Buildings and Proposed Extensions. Special Collections. ref: UHC – PLANS Box 1.

University of Reading Special Collections. Christine Pullein-Thompson Collection, Correspondence with Publishers, Granada: MS 5078/107.

 

 

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Postscript to the Richard Strauss Letter

The question of why a letter from  Richard Strauss’s dated 1942 should have been attached to a programme for ‘Lohengrin’ in Vienna in 1951 appeared to be answered by their joint relevance to the opera ‘Capriccio’.

Nevertheless, it seemed worth contacting the Theater an der Wien on the off-chance that someone there could confirm this interpretation or throw further light on the matter.

An email to the theatre on 30 July 2024 was forwarded to the relevant department, and their archivist, Renate Riedel, replied a week later. She reminded me that, in the chaos following the end of World War II and the destruction of the Vienna State Opera House, the Theater an der Wien was the temporary venue for the State Opera. She explained that the Theater an der Wien was itself in a very sorry state during post-war period, presumably hinting at a scarcity of records. She suggested that I direct my enquiry to the Vienna Theatre Museum and/or the archives of the State Opera.

An email to the Theatre Museum produced an immediate reply from two archivists, Daniela Franke and Christiane Mühlegger-Henhapel. Their tentative explanation was that the Strauss letter was ‘probably’ inserted into the programme for ‘Lohengrin’ by accident because, on the previous and following evenings, there had been performances of the theatre’s new production of ‘Capriccio’ conducted by Dr Karl Böhm, the very person to whom Strauss’s letter had been addressed. Dates of the relevant performances provided by the archivists are these:

      • Saturday 2nd June:        Strauss’s Capriccio
      • Wednesday 6th June:  Strauss’s Capriccio
      • Thursday 7th June:        Wagner’s Lohengrin; attended by the Pullein-Thompson sisters
      • Tuesday 12th June:        Strauss’s Capriccio

The archivists were also kind enough to photograph the programme and inserts for the performance of ‘Capriccio’ on 6 June that, as can be seen below, include the Strauss letter:

Explanation for the Strauss Letter being attached to the ‘Lohengrin’ programme

Accidental attachment of the Strauss letter to the ‘Lohengrin’ programme seems the most likely, but not the only possible explanation. It is also feasible that Christine, accompanied by Diana (or maybe Josephine) had attended performances of both ‘Capriccio’ (6th June) and ‘Lohengrin’ (7th June). A third possibility is that one of the sisters simply found the letter in the theatre on the 7th June and kept it as a souvenir.

Thanks

To Renate Riedel of the Theater an der Wien, and Daniela Franke and Christiane Mühlegger-Henhapel of the Theatermuseum in Vienna for their help and prompt responses to my enquiries.

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A Letter from Richard Strauss

Few posts on this blog would have been possible without Reading University’s Special Collections and the assistance of its ever-helpful team of archivists and Reading Room assistants.

Occasionally, among the wealth of items in the collections something particularly interesting and unexpected turns up such as a sheaf of original signed letters by French author and Nobel laureate André Gide (1869-1951), or an unsigned copy of a letter from the composer Richard Strauss.

The latter is the topic of this post –  Strauss’s letter is contained in a folder of theatre and concert programmes in the collection of Josephine Pullein-Thompson (1924-2014) who, together with her  twin sisters Christine  and Diana, was a children’s author best known for adventure stories featuring horses and ponies.

Contents of Folder MS 5120/116

Among Josephine’s many concert memorabilia there is a programme for the Vienna State Opera’s performances at the Theater an der Wien1 in Vienna. The item is in three parts:

 1.     The programme itself which covers the whole 1950-51 concert season (there would have been a separate insert for each performance). It contains notifications of future events, photographs of a previous production of ‘Der Troubadour’ (Verdi’s ‘Il Travatore’), advertisements and a three-page extract from the libretto of Richard Strauss’s ‘Capriccio’. A handwritten note on the front cover reads: ‘On holiday with Christine’. Presumably this is Christine Pullein-Thompson, Josephine’s sister. We don’t know whether Christine’s holiday companion was her twin sister Diana or their older sister Josephine in whose archive the item was found. It is possible that it was sent to Josephine by Diana.

2.      An insert for the performance of Wagner’s ‘Lohengrin’ that took place on 7 June 1951. It contains the cast list and there is a synopsis of the plot on the back.

3.      A copy of an unsigned letter from Richard Strauss to the conductor Karl Böhm. The address is simply ‘Garmisch’ and the date 3 June 1942.

It is not clear why a letter written in 1942 should accompany a theatre programme from 1951. A closer examination of both, however, reveals some common ground.

Content of the Letter

Strauss addresses Böhm as ‘Dear Friend’. He says he has no objection to Böhm staging ‘Capriccio’ in Dresden. In fact, he is all in favour of it. As far as a performance in Vienna is concerned, he would prefer to wait until the Theater an der Wien had reopened. He regarded this venue as the ideal place to stage operas such as ‘Capriccio’ and ‘Intermezzo’ rather than the Vienna State Opera House which was too big to enable an intimate understanding of the text. He relates this to Böhm’s anticipated move to the Vienna State Opera.

Strauss suggests that during the next winter, when Böhm would be back in Vienna, he should start working on Strauss’s ‘Die Frau ohne Schatten’ [‘The Woman without a Shadow’] which was in urgent need of revival.

He says he will be in Berlin from 10 June onwards and hopes to have the pleasure of seeing Böhm at the premiere of a new production of Strauss’s three-act opera ‘Guntram’, on the 13th.

Some Context
      • Dr Karl Böhm (1894-1981) was regarded as a member of a golden age of German conductors that included, among others, Wilhelm Furtwängler, Bruno Walter and Otto Klemperer. Böhm was a devotee of Strauss and his works, and had conducted the premieres of ‘Die schweigsame Frau’ [‘The Silent Woman’] in 1935 and ‘Daphne’ in 1938, which Strauss had dedicated to him. Eventually Böhm was to conduct ‘Capriccio’ in Zurich in 1944 and in Salzburg in 1950. At the time of Strauss’s letter to him he was Director of Music at the Dresden State Opera.
      • ‘Capriccio’ was Strauss’s final opera, completed several weeks after his letter to Böhm, and first performed in Munich in October 1942. It was produced by Rudolf Hartmann (mentioned in Strauss’s letter in relation to ‘Die Frau ohne Schatten’) and conducted by the opera’s main librettist, Clemens Krauss. The premiere was sponsored by Joseph Goebbels, the Reich’s Minister of Propaganda. There is an irony here in that the original idea for ‘Capriccio’ had come from the Jewish author and librettist Stefan Zweig – their collaboration on ‘Die schweigsame Frau’ had previously brought Strauss into conflict with the authorities.2 
      • The sender’s address is simply stated to be Garmisch. Strauss would have been writing from his spacious and secluded family villa in Garmisch-Patenkirchen, built by the composer during the first decade of the 20th Century, and at least partially funded by the success of ‘Salome’, a one-act opera first performed in 1905. He occupied it in 1908 and the villa became his alpine sanctuary from which he had easy access to Munich, Salzburg and Vienna. It was here that Richard Strauss and Clemens Krauss worked on the libretto of ‘Capriccio’.
      • ‘Guntram‘ was Strauss’s first opera, first performed in 1894 and revised in 1940 because of its lack of popularity.
Common Ground between the Letter and the Programme

It is clear from the above that there are two areas of overlap: the opera house itself and ‘Capriccio’.

As far as the opera house is concerned, the Theater an der Wien (mentioned in Strauss’s letter) was also the venue for Wagner’s ‘Lohengrin’ that the Pullein-Thompson sisters must have attended in 1951. Nevertheless, it is worth noting that, whereas in 1942 Vienna was blessed with both the Theater an der Wien and the Wiener Staatsoper (also mentioned in the letter), the latter had been partially destroyed by allied bombing in 1945, and during the 1950-51 season the State Opera was still being temporarily housed in the Theater an der Wien.

With regard to ‘Capriccio’, the opera is both the main topic of the letter as well as providing the programme with its lengthy quotation. The opera’s English subtitle is ‘A Conversation Piece for Music’, and its theme is whether Music or Poetry is supreme among the arts. The tension between the two is personified in an 18th-century French countess who is unable to decide between two suitors: a musician and a poet.

The importance of the audience being able to follow the arguments put forth in the dialogue made the Theater an der Wien, with its more intimate atmosphere, a more appropriate venue. The necessity of this was made clear in a preface to the opera dated April 1942, in which Strauss advised conductors and producers on rehearsal techniques that focused on clear diction.

Why was the extract from ‘Capriccio’ included in the theatre programme?

There are at least three reasons why the extract was appropriate for the programme of the 1951-52 season in Vienna: the success of ‘Capriccio’ and the popularity of its composer, the opera’s lack of any political overtones or propaganda, and the content of the extract itself.

The premiere of the opera in 1942 received approval from both critics and public. It was described as one ‘of the most successful novelties of the period’ (Levi, 1994, p. 189); the music was ‘light, colourful, and cheery, playfully ironic and uplifting’ (Kater, 2000, 172); it was ‘a masterpiece’, one of the few works of any quality that was produced during the war years – ‘the eloquence and fluency of [Strauss’s] work was extraordinary’ (Boyden, 1999, pp. 339-40); furthermore, ‘Capriccio is a glorious achievement, a testament to the tireless genius of its composer and the perfect work with which to celebrate his life in the theatre’ (Boyden, 1999, p. 345).

During the dark years of war, such uplifting music with its escapist theme provided a welcome relief, and Strauss’s public braved the blackout and air raids in Munich to attend the premiere. A decade later, the lack of any allusions to, or even connections with, recent history would have been entirely fitting in 1950s post-war Vienna.3

The extract in the programme is from Scene IX in the second half of the opera. It is a monologue spoken by the theatre director La Roche about the state of contemporary theatre. In it he berates the poet and the musician – what have they ever done for drama or music? Their works would be nothing without people like him! He deplores the state of modern drama and music: ‘Where are the works that speak to the hearts of the people? Where are they? No matter how hard I search I fail to find them. They mock the old and create nothing new.’ A few lines later La Roche speaks the sentence that forms the heading of the extract: ‘Ich will meine Bühne mit Menschen bevölkern’ [‘I want to fill my stage with real people’]. It continues: ‘…with people like us who speak our language! Their sorrows should move us and their joys touch us deeply.’

In his guide to ‘Capriccio’, Burton Fisher describes La Roche’s speech as ‘an impassioned sermon – a rhetorical homage to himself as the protector of the noble dignity of the theater’ (Fisher, 2010, p. 10). It is both a critique of contemporary theatre and his vision for a theatre of the future that would have been just as relevant to the Vienna of 1950-51 as it had been to the Munich of 1942.4

Conclusion

Either Josephine Pullein-Thompson or her sister Diana (possibly the latter) had accompanied their sister Christine to the Theater an der Wien in 1952. It is not entirely clear, however, why Strauss’s letter dated 1942 should be in Josephine’s archive. The most likely explanation is that the theatre management inserted it into the programme because of its relevance to La Roche’s speech, itself a manifesto for the theatre, and because Strauss’s letter speaks favourably of the Theater an der Wien as a venue for operas like ‘Capriccio’.5

Notes
    1. ‘Wien’ is German for Vienna, but in the name of the theatre it refers to the river on whose banks it is situated.
    2. Strauss had a complex relationship with the Nazi regime. He never joined the Party, but in 1933 he dedicated a song for voice and piano, ‘Das Bächlein’  [‘The Little Stream’], to Goebbels that was also a homage to Hitler. In the same year he was appointed Director of the Reichsmusikkammer where one of his duties was the suppression of ‘degenerate art’ in favour of ‘Aryan’ music. He was dismissed in 1935 as a result of his collaboration with the Jewish author Stefan Zweig. Strauss was vulnerable because of a Jewish daughter-in-law and two Jewish grandchildren, but his strength was his national and international reputation and the fact that the regime needed him. In 1948 a denazification court found him innocent of wrongdoing.
    3. This lack of connection to contemporary events did not prevent later performances being relocated from 18th Century France to 1940s Germany. A production in Munich in 2022 was set in the Third Reich and contained allusions to racism, deportation and surveillance. According to a rather uncomplimentary review by Gohlke (2022) such references to the past added nothing worthwhile.
    4. In addition, both of the reviews of the 2022 Munich production draw attention to its topical relevance.
    5. The only doubt about this interpretation is that discoloration at the top of the sheet suggests that, at some stage, sticky tape has been attached; there is no corresponding mark on the programme, however. The marks look too uneven to have been caused by other factors such as exposure to light (see image above).
Sources

Boyden, M. (1999). Richard Strauss. Boston: Northeastern University Press.

Fisher, B. D. (2010). Capriccio: opera journeys mini guide series. Boca Raton, Fla.: Opera Journeys Publishing.

Gohlke, C. (2022, July). Strauss’ “Capriccio” an der Bayrischen Staatsoper. Neues Morgenblatt für gebildete Stände. Retrieved July 20, 2024 from, https://neuesmorgenblatt.de/beitrag/strauss-capriccio-br-staatsoper

Graydon, P. (2011). Opera after Hofmannsthal. In C. Youmans (Ed.), The Cambridge companion to Richard Strauss (pp. 136-150). Cambridge: CUP.

Heublein, F. (2022, July). “Oh – in Ihrem Salon vergehen die Stunden, ohne dass die Zeit älter wird. Frau Gräfin!” Klassik begeistert: der Klassik-Blog. Retrieved July 20, 2024, from https://klassik-begeistert.de/richard-strauss-capriccio-prinzregententheater-muenchen-17-juli-2022-premiere/

Kater, M. H. (1997). The twisted muse: musicians and their music in the Third Reich. Oxford: OUP.

Kater, M. H. (2000). Composers of the Nazi era: eight portraits. Oxford: OUP.

Levi, E. (1994). Music in the Third Reich. Basingstoke: Macmillan.

Macleod, D. (Presenter). (2024, July 4). Composer of the Week: Strauss, 4/5 Riding with the Reich [Radio broadcast]. BBC Radio 3.

Osborne, C. (1988). The complete operas of Strauss: a critical Guide. London: Grange Books.

Richard Strauss. (2024, July 15). In Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Strauss

Strauss, R. (1942). Libretto von Capriccio. https://opera-guide.ch/operas/capriccio/libretto/de/ 

University of Reading Special Collections. Theatre and concert programmes collected by [Josephine] Pullein-Thompson, MS 5120/116.

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Rescue and Preservation of ‘Meteor’, Sculpture by Dr Jon Roberts

Meteor is one of a series of wood sculptures by Dr Jon Roberts. It was an instantly recognisable feature of the Harris Garden until it was subjected to an act of vandalism at the beginning of this year.

Jenny Halstead’s book ‘An artist’s year in the Harris Garden’ (2013) contains three images of the piece. She describes her impression of it  and its location:

‘the White Garden with Jon Roberts’s wooden sculpture ‘Meteor’ at its centre, which always reminds me of the skull of Triceratops.’ (p. 6).

I think I first encountered ‘Meteor’ in Jenny Halstead’s garden during the annual Whiteknights Studio Trail in June 2007.

Meteor in Jenny Halstead’s garden during the Studio trail, June 2007

In a recent interview in the MERL garden, Jon told me something of its history. He started with the origin of the wood.

A friend of a neighbour had inherited a sheep farm in mid-Wales, where the top of the hillside was littered with tree roots following earlier felling of larch and oak trees. The roots had been lying there, weathering for 40 years and, in Jon’s words, they had developed ‘wonderful natural shapes’.

The hillside at Devannor Farm

Following a preliminary reconnaissance trip to mid-Wales, Jon and his son Dan rented a van and loaded it with some 12-15 roots, enough for Jon to work on sculptures of all shapes and sizes for at least three years.

The farmer was given a generous payment.

 

 

Weathered roots at Devannor Farm

Most of the roots needed little attention, just cleaning up, mounting and the provision of plinths.

The piece of wood selected for Meteor was a product of the thin soil, resulting in the root spreading out in a fan shape, finally leaving a flat, distorted disc embedded with fragments of slate.

Tentative plans to turn it into a coffee table came to nothing and Jon bided his time, spending months contemplating the shape and making minimal changes. When first cut, the larch wood displayed an intense deep red colour (see image below). The wood was brittle but hard (larch wood had once been used for pit props ) and Jon used gouges to produce the surface pattern (see image) and a handmade French Auriou rasp to shape the curves and edges. The wood was too brittle for a heavy mallet so a light alternative was used instead.

Close-up of the larch wood showing the grain, gouge marks and its original deep red colouring, December 2007

Meteor’s plinth was from an entirely different source; it was originally part of a tidal groyne in Swanage that was being replaced. It was made of greenheart, a tropical hardwood that is extremely hard, heavy and resistant to water and insect damage. Jon heard that the wood was to be thrown away and contacted the site engineer for permission to remove a piece.

In May 2011, I saw the sculpture in the Harris Garden for the first time. It was in what was then called The White Garden. In 2015 this became The Meteor Garden thanks to generous sponsorship from the Friends of the Harris Garden and a layout designed by volunteers.

Jon Roberts with Meteor in the Harris Garden in May 2011

By 2013, some of the deep red colouring had started to look more weathered:

April 2013

And by 2020 it had almost completely faded:

March 2020

Then early in 2024, a senseless piece of vandalism snapped the sculpture off its plinth and broke off one its edges. Fortunately all the pieces were salvaged and safely stored by the Grounds Staff.

The base that had been attached to the plinth, February 2024
February 2024

Even better is the news that, thanks to the help of staff in Art Education on the London Road Campus, Meteor is being relocated. On 10 July this year, it was delivered into the safe-keeping of Dr Suzy Tutchell of the Institute of Education who is arranging for its repair and a new plinth.

Jon Roberts and Meteor outside the Art Education Building (L4) at London Road, July 2024
Post Script

Regular visitors to the Harris Garden will probably have been aware of another piece by Jon Roberts that he called his ‘Natural Sculpture’. It is another of the hillside roots. The image below shows it in its heyday in 2011. Over the years, however, it has suffered from the natural process of disintegration and collapse, such that little remains of its original shape although its components can still be made out in the undergrowth.

Jon Roberts in the Harris Garden with his ‘Natural Sculpture’, May 2011
Jenny Halstead’s Book

Halstead, J. (2013). An artist’s year in the Harris Garden. Reading: Two Rivers Press.

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In Memory of Jessie Durbidge, B.A. (1905-1927)

Jessie Durbidge was a former student of University College, Reading and a teacher at Alfred Sutton Primary School. She died tragically of influenza in 1927 at the age of 21.

Jessie became a focus of interest as a result of recent research conducted by Professor Yota Dimitriadi and others into the burials in Reading Old Cemetery. Unfortunately, Jessie’s grave is unmarked and the precise location is unknown at present.

Jessie’s short life was recently commemorated on the cemetery website by Dr Rhi Smith of Reading University’s Museums and Special Collections Services. Dr Smith’s biography of Jessie can be found here.

Some additional information about her is contained in the University’s Special Collections and in the archives of Kendrick School.

Reading’s Special collections

Details of Jessie’s time as a student are fairly sparse – the annual report of the University College for 1923-24 states that she passed the Intermediate Arts Examination of the University of London in July 1924. And the Proceedings of the University for 1926-27 shows her degree from the University of London as ‘B.A., November, 1926. Pass, Division II.’

Jessie belonged to one of the last cohorts of students at Reading who were  entered for external degrees because their enrolment preceded the granting of the Royal Charter in 1926.

The short obituary below was published in the Old Student News in April 1927, part of a list that shows she wasn’t the only former student who failed to recover from an attack of influenza.

Old Students obit
Death notice published in Reading’s Old Student News.
Kendrick school

The archives of Kendrick School are a richer source of information thanks to the preservation of copies of the Kendrick Girls’ Magazine and the records of those leaving the school.

example of the magazine
School magazine from 1922 (the archives of Kendrick School)

Under the heading ‘Prefects’ Notes’, Jessie’s appointment as the new Head Girl was recorded in the Summer 1922 issue. A few pages later there appears an enthusiastic review of a charity concert written by a J. Durbidge. The event had taken place in St John’s Hall and had raised £15 in aid of the East Reading Day Nursery.

In Autumn 1923, a paragraph in the magazine’s editorial recorded Jessie’s move into higher education:

‘We are pleased to have good news of our former head girl… Jessie Durbidge is working for Intermediate Arts at University College, Reading, her subjects being English, History, Latin and Mathematics… we send our best wishes for the coming year.’

The same opening page documents Jessie’s success in the Oxford and Cambridge Higher Certificate and contains the following ‘Prefects’ Notes’:

‘We were very sorry to lose, at the end of last term, our Head Girl, Jessie Durbidge, and our Deputy Head Girl, Muriel Beasley, both of whom held office for five terms.’

Jessie’s final leaving record is shown below. It shows that she was a day-scholar who progressed to Kendrick in the Autumn of 1916 from Battle Primary School. Before her success in the Oxford and Cambridge Higher Certificate noted above, she had achieved Class I Honours in the Senior Oxford Examination in 1921.

Edited final record

Following her death, this obituary was published in the school magazine in the summer of 1927:

‘On March 25th, at Marlborough Nursing Home, Jessie Durbidge, B. A., of 16, Gloucester Road, aged 21.

It is with the deepest regret that we record the passing of Jessie Durbidge, who had been so helpful to the School as a Prefect and Head Girl prior to 1923, and from 1923-1926 was a Student at Reading University. In November last she had graduated as B.A., and had been appointed to Alfred Sutton Junior School.

Jessie had served on the Old Kendrick’s Committee since January 1924, and a wreath was sent in the name of O.K.G.A. friends and committee, in memory of one who had served the Association so happily and helpfully.’

It was not possible to identify Jessie on a school photograph of the time, but the enlarged section of an image from 1919 below shows how she and her fellow pupils might have looked during that period.

Detail of school photo
From the archives of Kendrick School
Thanks to:

Dr Emma Duncan of Kendrick School who searched the school archives for references to Jessie, and to the School for permission to quote from these sources and reproduce them here;

Dr Rhianedd Smith, Director of Academic Learning and Engagement, University Museums and Special Collections Services, University of Reading;

Professor Yota Dimitriadi of the Institute of Education, University of Reading. A book edited by Yota about Reading Old Cemetery is due to be published soon by Two Rivers Press. The provisional title is ‘Beyond the Arch’.

Sources

Kendrick School. Kendrick Girls’ Magazine, Summer Term 1922.

Kendrick School. Kendrick Girls’ Magazine, Autumn Term 1923.

Kendrick School. Kendrick Girls’ Magazine, Summer Term 1927.

The University, Reading. Old Student News, No. 13, April 1927.

University College, Reading. Accounts & Reports, 1923-24.

University of Reading. Proceedings of the University, 1926-27.

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Every Woman’s Encyclopædia and Fine Arts at Reading

‘The notion that an art student is a reckless creature, unable to handle any implement other than a pencil or brush, is sternly discouraged.’ (Article about Fine Arts at University College, Reading, Every Woman’s Encyclopædia, 1910, p. 2838)

This blog recently described the buildings and location  of the Department of the Fine Arts on the London Road Campus. At times, it has also mentioned members of the Fine Arts Department such as Robert Gibbings, the celebrated wood engraver, underwater artist and travel writer, and Allen W. Seaby.

This post looks at the Department in 1910 when Seaby was still a lecturer. though he was soon to become Director of the Department and eventually Professor of Fine Art. A product of the Department himself, having obtained his Diploma in 1903, he made an  impressive contribution to the culture of the College and University. Previous posts have referred to Seaby’s design of the bookplate for St Andrew’s Hall, his early educational research, the picture of the Great Hall by moonlight, sketches of the grebes on Whiteknights Lake and his participation in the Farm School.

An Encyclopaedia Entry

In 1910, Every Woman’s Encyclopaedia published a four-page entry about Reading’s Fine Arts Department.

heading

The article must have been a triumph of publicity for both the College and the Department. Information was provided about fees, hostels for women students (‘the dietary is under medical inspection’) and staffing of the Department. There was  praise for the well-stocked library and attention was drawn to the athletic ground and the common room where art students socialised with those studying a wide range of other subjects. The way that Fine Arts was successfully integrated within a well-developed higher education programme was described as ‘unique’.

One advantage of this was that art students had access to classes in other subjects. It also supplied them with a wide variety of subjects to draw and paint. Horticulture and Botany, for example, provided facilities for the flower painter and, ‘The animal painter … has access to the zoology professor and his museum’ (p. 2839; i.e. the Cole Museum).

greenhouse
Students making botanical drawings ‘direct from Nature’. (p. 2839)

Using animals, even horses, as subjects obviously formed a highly significant part of the Department’s work:

‘The study of animal painting and modelling from life is another branch of the training. A collection of small animals and a number of birds are kept specially on the premises to act as models. They are placed in pens on the grass in the centre of the class on sunny days, and, in bad weather or in winter time, in cages in one of the studios.’ (p. 2840)

Horse
‘Special arrangements are made to provide horse models’ (p. 2839). I am fairly sure that the man with his back to the camera, standing, is Allen Seaby

The curriculum included life classes that used professional models from London, and there was an emphasis on drawing from memory. One drawing-based craft such at etching, illuminating or colour printing was compulsory. Apparently, Reading was one of the rare institutions that taught colour printing using wood blocks. Other crafts included stained-glass work, artistic metalwork, leather work, wood carving, bookbinding and embroidery.

The ‘Life Room’ at London Road, c. 1910

One thing that seems strange is that allowing students to use colour rather than just drawing in black and white was apparently rather daring:

‘The more elementary students are often allowed to express their ideas of objects placed before them in colour, and as is now slowly being recognised, such colour exercises keenly stimulate their sense of form.’ (p. 2839)

Of particular importance was the fact that the Department was recognised by the Board of Education as a centre for teacher training. As well as the Department’s own Diploma,  therefore, students could qualify as art teachers in primary or secondary schools. It also gave them access to prizes and scholarships offered by the Board.

The entry provides a broad and entirely positive overview of the Department. There are inaccuracies, however – a minor but understandable error is the confusion between the University Extension College (formed in 1892) and University College, Reading (1902). What must have been more annoying at the time is the misspelling of Allen Seaby’s name as ‘Sealy’.

One discrepancy that I can’t explain is that Seaby, rather than Professor Collingwood, was described as Director of Fine Arts. According to the annual report for 1910-11, however, Seaby was not appointed Director until Collingwood’s resignation at Easter, 1911. All the other members of the Department who were listed in that year’s Calendar were mentioned in the article, including Walter Crane the Visiting Examiner.

Calendar
Staff of the Department of the Fine Arts (University College, Reading Calendar, 1910-11)

The Curriculum as Presented in the College Calendar (1910-11)

The Calendar contains details of the scheme of work, the classes available, and regulations for the Diploma in Fine Art and Certicates in the various Crafts.

The curriculum was organised under groups of studies:

      • Drawing, Painting and Modelling.
      • Architecture.
      • The Artistic Handicrafts.
      • Design.
      • Methods of Teaching.

To qualify for the Diploma, students had to follow courses for no less than nine terms and perform satisfactorily in three out of five of the following: Drawing, Modelling, Painting, Design and Composition. In addition, they had to pass an examination in one subject from the Associate Examination in Letters and Science which they attended for one session.

Certificates courses lasted one session and were available in Metalwork, Wood Carving, Emboidery and Leather Work.

The School of Art’s New premises in 2023

In 1910 Fine Art was located in Building L4 at London Road, where Art Education can still be found today.

In the mean time, the University of Reading’s School of Art has come a long way from the original Department of Fine Arts. In 2023 it moved from Earley Gate to purpose-built premises close to the Pepper Lane entrance to the Campus.

entrance
The School of Art, January 2024

Distant, front

side

Thanks

To Richard Keefe for passing on the extract from Every Woman’s Encyclopaedia.

Sources

University College, Reading: the Fine Arts Department. Every Woman’s Encyclopaedia, Vol. 4, 1910, pp. 2838-2841.

University College, Reading. Calendars, 1909-10 to 1911-12.

University College, Reading. Report to Council, 1911.

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Elspeth Huxley and Reading: fact versus fiction

‘Writers must learn pretty quickly to disguise what they’re doing if they don’t want to end up in the libel courts.’ (Val McDermid, 2023)

My previous post about Elspeth Huxley dealt with her time at Reading as it was portrayed in the book, ‘Love among the Daughters’. Her description of Reading and the London Road Campus was far from flattering.

The reviews and notices of the work label it ‘non-fiction’ even though it bears many characteristics of a novel. In the Evening News of 26th Sept. 1968 it was already listed fourth in the non-fiction best sellers; the following month it was ranked first, ahead of Kim Philby’s ‘My Silent War: the Autobiography of a Spy’ (there are those who claim that this contained elements of fiction, too). And in an interview with The Times on 16th September 1968, Huxley described it as autobiography. Nevertheless, it is generally regarded as an example of ‘fictionalised autobiography’, a genre in which changes to details of real people, places and events do not detract from the authenticity of the account.

There are several reasons to question the accuracy of the narrative:

    • a gap of over 40 years between the events described and publication;
    • changes calculated to avoid offending people who were still alive;
    • exaggeration and caricature for comic effect (the humour is a recurring theme of the book reviews; Christine Nichols, Huxley’s biographer, regarded it as one of her wittiest books);
    • Huxley’s own statements about her recollections;
    • discrepancies with historical records.

In August 1968 Huxley was interviewed on BBC Woman’s Hour by Marjorie Anderson. Here she gave a far more nuanced explanation of ‘autobiography’ than in her Times interview:

‘Well, it’s an autobiography in a sense, but it’s more of a recreation, more of a reconstruction of the period and of the impressions one had of life at that age than it is a chronological series of actual events. I don’t pretend to remember conversations which one had forty years ago, so one recreates the conversations, trying to make them true to the people one was conversing with – I mean one tries to create the atmosphere, but it’s much more of a creation of atmosphere than a chronicle.’ (Recorded 9th August 1968; broadcast 18th September 1968).

She further revealed that she never kept a diary but did have some notes that she made at Cornell and some old photographs.

Huxley’s Family

Elspeth stayed with her aunt, uncle and cousins on arrival in England and during the vacations. Although these periods have little relevance to her time in Reading, the treatment of her relatives illustrates her approach.

Gertrude, Kate and Joanna are the children of Aunt Madge and Uncle Jack. They are Elspeth’s cousins and ‘the daughters’ of the book’s title. All the above names are  pseudonyms, as is the case with other relatives and acquaintances.

Cousin Gertrude is a superficial 1920s flapper; Kate got herself expelled from her convent school for various crimes such as running a book on racehorses; Joanna, the youngest, attends a ‘smart’ school in Suffolk; Aunt Madge descends into weeks-long silent sulks; and the idiosyncratic, bigoted Uncle Jack seems angry, disapproving and withdrawn except when reminiscing about his regiment.

These caricatures are accompanied by other family members such as Aunt Lilli and Uncle Rufus (a less well-suited couple it is hardly possible to imagine), not to mention the bottom-pinching Lord Fulbright who insists on taking young women skating, and the withered Russian countess with a constipated parrot that attacks people’s ankles.

It is in such stereotypes, and those of some of the personalities at Reading, that much of the humour lies. It must be said, however, that some of the witty features that thrilled the critics of 1968 are far less hilarious for the modern reader – Lord Fulbright comes across as a sinister predator rather than an amiable eccentric; the casual racism and antisemitism in language and attitudes, the snobbery and patronising colonial attitudes, even if they accurately reflect and satirise the views of a particular section of society in the 1920s, can still come as a shock.

In ‘Elspeth Huxley: a biography‘, Christine Nicholls documents the extent to which changes had to be made to avoid offending  living family members. In particular, the real-life Joanna didn’t want her daughter to know about her youthful indiscretions. Joanna’s adventurous character was therefore transferred to Kate, and references to drugs, illegitimacy and an abortion were deleted.

Reading and the College/University

In his master’s thesis, Richard Keefe confirms some details in the book, but also notes factual errors: the number of Women’s halls of residence, the size of the student population and the ratio of male to female students. Huxley claimed that ‘Girls were in the fortunate position of being heavily outnumbered by men’ (p. 48), whereas in fact the opposite was true. This misconception, which was perpetuated in the book reviews, and even her biography, must have resulted from Huxley’s experience among predominantly male Agriculture students.

Elspeth’s gloomy perception of the campus and its buildings contrasts sharply with that of Edith Morley (‘These extensive and beautifully laid out grounds’, 1944/2016, p. 111) and with the ambition of W. M. Childs, Reading’s first Vice-Chancellor, ‘to make a place of sojourn for impressionable youth’ (1933, p. 51). In his history of the first 50 years of Reading University, J. C. Holt (1977) concludes that Huxley’s views could be neither ignored nor dismissed – an objective judgement was impossible.

However, in the BBC interview, when Marjorie Anderson queried the dreariness of Reading and the wisdom of educating young people in dreary surroundings, Huxley appeared to attribute this to the town rather than the University:

‘Oh I don’t think I found it dreary myself. I thoroughly enjoyed it.’

Huxley’s Fellow Students

The pseudonyms of the students who figure most centrally are: 

    • Dando: female, a Dairying student who played lacrosse;
    • Thomas: male ‘an athlete and a hockey star’, Dando’s friend;
    • Snugg: female, a third-year student, housemate of Huxley;
    • Turner: male, Rugger Captain, Snugg’s friend;
    •  Corbett: male, Cricket Captain;
    • Viney: male, captain in the Officers Training Corps, and member of the University’s rowing eight;
    • Swift: female, Fine Arts student, housemate of Huxley;
    • Abdul: male, studying Commerce, Swift’s friend, described as ‘a swarthy, sleek-haired Oriental of some kind’, p. 59); the only foreign student, and the only student referred to by his first name;
    • Nash: male, member of the Dramatic Society and Labour Club – an outsider because of his politics and background.

Thomas, Turner, Corbett and Viney made up the self-styled Philosophers Club, an all-male clique who ‘sat together in the Buttery, drank together in the pub, … shared a boat on the river, [went on] jaunts to London to see a show.’ (p. 53).

Following a careful analysis of student records and having spotted how Huxley transposed letters in people’s names, Richard Keefe is confident that he has identified the students on which the characters of Snugg and Turner were based.

Of Snugg, Huxley writes that she:

‘… gave herself airs, and was apt to introduce into conversations topics like hunt balls, point-to-points, first nights, presentations at court and cousins in the Foreign Office’ (p. 51).

All of which was greeted with scepticism because she came from Birmingham. Richard Keefe suggests that the real Snugg was Marjorie Hope Scutt, born in 1906, a student of Fine Art (Diploma), Embroidery (Certificate) and Leatherwork (Certificate).

Huxley sums up Turner as:

‘… not only lord of the [Rugby] Fifteen but he was reading agriculture, had a job lined up in the colonies, held office in the Students’ Union, and was said to drink a lot of beer ; so he was one of the social princes. (p. 50).

Turner was due to spend the next year in Trinidad as training for the Colonial Service and is identified by Keefe as George R. Parker, a Wantage Hall student (1924-26).

Turner’s intended career seems typical of what Huxley claims for the majority of agriculture students at Reading – they would never dirty their hands ploughing or hoeing, but would join local authorities or become agricultural officers and District Commissioners somewhere in the Empire, enjoying the benefits of servants, plenty of leave, good pay and a generous pension after only 25 years.

The Academic Staff

While it takes detective work to identify the students in the book, Huxley’s lecturers in the Agriculture Department are immediately recognisable. One, Professor Sidney Pennington, is even mentioned by his real name – there was no need for a pseudonym because she held him in high regard –  he was a practical person who could turn his hand to real farm work. This should not surprise us as, before his promotion, the College had appointed him farm manager in 1914.

One observation that finds an echo in the University’s Photographic Collection is that ‘the professor was accompanied everywhere by a small and shaggy white terrier’ (p. 69).

Shows the dog
Prof Sidney Pennington with his West Highland terrier on Lane End Farm, Shinfield (University of Reading Special Collections)

Huxley’s other lecturer was ‘Our Dean’, unnamed but obviously H. A. D. Neville, professor of Agricultural Chemistry and Dean of Agriculture since 1920. He is not named in the book, presumably because his description is less complimentary:

‘… a small, squat, ugly, rather savage Midlander who taught biochemistry, spitting out the formulae  as if they had been so many oaths …’ (p. 116).

Neville
Prof H. A. D. Neville (University of Reading Special Collections)

The Intermingling of Fact and Fiction

According to Huxley’s biographer, the detail in ‘Love among the Daughters’ cannot be entirely trusted:

‘What Elspeth did was to portray locations accurately, but conceal the truth about events and people who were still alive. She would often transfer a remembered incident to a different time, and always amalgamated or distorted characters so that there was no danger of libel.’ (Nichols, 2002, p. 82)

Nevertheless, as Antonia Fraser suggested in the Sunday Times (22nd September 1968), Huxley skilfully negotiated the blending of fact and fiction such that the reader understood far more of the social history of the period than through academic study.

Acknowledgements

The BBC copyright content is reproduced courtesy of the British Broadcasting Corporation. All rights reserved.

Thanks also to Penguin Random House for permission to access the Review File for ‘Love among the Daughters’ and to use the quotations from the Woman’s Hour interview.

Many thanks to Richard Keefe for giving me a copy of his master’s thesis.

Sources

Childs, W. M. (1933). Making a university: an account of the university movement at Reading. London: J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd.

Holt, J. C. (1977). The University of Reading: the first fifty years. Reading: University of Reading Press.

Huxley, E. J. (1968). Love among the daughters. London: Chatto & Windus.

Keefe, R. (2022). History, Big Data and changes in the University of Reading / University College Reading’s Student Population over time (1908-1972). Unpublished Master’s Thesis, University of Reading.

McDermid, V. (2023). Past lying. London: Sphere.

Morley, E. J. (2016). Before and after: reminiscences of a working life (original text of 1944 edited by Barbara Morris). Reading: Two Rivers Press.

Nichols, C. S. (2002). Elspeth Huxley: a biography. London: Harper Collins.

University College Reading, Calendar, 1925-6.

University of Reading, Calendars, 1926-27 & 1927-28.

University of Reading Special Collections. Review file for ‘Love among the Daughters’ by Elspeth Huxley. Reference number: CW R/4/40 [also containing interviews with the author and BBC broadcasts – BBC copyright content is reproduced courtesy of the British Broadcasting Corporation. All rights reserved].

University of Reading Special Collections. University History MS 5305 Photographs – Portraits Boxes 1 & 2.