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Goldsmiths’ first Warden- ‘He died a gentleman and soldier’ and his last letters from Gallipoli

Goldsmiths’ first Warden standing middle among male lecturers 1905. Vice-Principal for men students Professor Thomas Raymont is seated centre bearing the thick bushy moustache. Image: Goldsmiths, University of London

One of the most poignant and moving documents in Goldsmiths, University of London’s Special Collections is the last letter Goldsmiths’ first Warden William Loring (1865-1915) wrote to his family.

He was about to have his leg amputated because it had developed gangrene after being shattered by a Turkish sniper bullet during front line operations at Gallipoli in October 1915.

He was so weak he dictated his last words to an officer in an adjoining bed:

‘Hospital Ship, 24th October 1915

Dearest Theo,

It has just been sprung upon me that I must have my leg off- to avoid danger to life. The operation is not dangerous- the wound itself having been the shock to the system and comparatively little remaining to be done.

I hope to wire long before you get this letter that all is well.  I expect I shall be taken to Alexandria and then sent very soon to England, possibly even I may be sent to England direct from Lemnos.

Dearest, dearest love to you.

Much love and many kisses to the dear boy. Your Loving W.L.’ [It looks like the weak and shaky hand of William Loring wrote the ‘W.L.’ at the bottom of the page as this handwriting is different from the rest.]

The handwritten letter dictated by William Loring to Major Morton in an adjoining bed on the Hospital ship Devanha. Image: Goldsmiths Special Collections.

The army officer who wrote down William Loring’s last words to his family, Major Morton, also wrote a touching letter to Loring’s wife giving her more news about what was happening and seeking to reassure her. He had no idea that Captain Loring would succumb to gas gangrene on the same day.

‘H.M. Hospital Ship Devanha. Sunday 24th October 1915.

Dear Mrs Loring,

I trust you will forgive me the liberty I am taking in writing to you, but I am in the next bed to your husband on board this ship. I had the pleasure of taking down a letter from him to you just after the medical officer had told him it was the best they could do to take off his leg.

He has just returned from the operating theatre and is recovering from the anaesthetic and is I am sure going on well.

The shock has been great to him, but he is awfully plucky and sticking it so well. I am certain he will be all right and hope I shall be able to accompany him to England and do something for him as I shall have my operation before I get home.

I expect we shall go onto Alexandria almost at once and I will see that a cable is sent you reporting your husband’s condition.

Again apologies for the liberty taken and assuring you I shall always be willing to do anything in my power for you and Captain Loring.

Yours sincerely R.B. Morton. (Major Army Service Corps)’

[Major Morton would be promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and died while on active service 10th February 1919 and is buried in St. Peter’s Churchyard, Earley near Reading.]

Major Morton’s handwritten letter to Mrs Loring hoping to give her reassurance about the operation to remove her husband’s leg in an emergency operation on 24th October 1914. Image: Goldsmiths Special Collections.

Captain William Loring died soon after the operation. He would be buried at sea.

His name is inscribed on panel 21 of the Helles memorial in Turkey.

His widow and young son would receive a telegram notifying them of his death at their home in Blackheath and another expressing the condolences and sympathy of the King and Queen from Buckingham Palace.

’31st October 1915. To Mrs Loring, Allerton House, Blackheath.  I regret to inform you Captain W. Loring died of wounds 24 October. Lord Kitchener expresses his sympathy.’

Image: Goldsmiths Special Collections.

‘From: On Her Majesty’s Service, Buckingham Palace, 5 November 1915. 

To: Mrs Loring, Allerton House, Blackheath. The King and Queen deeply regret the loss you and the army have sustained by the death of your husband in the service of his country. Their Majesties truly sympathise.’

Image: Goldsmiths Special Collections.

Herbert Rosher, the Church of England chaplain on the Hospital Ship wrote to Mrs Loring:

‘Everything was done for his comfort and relief by the doctors and sisters, and in brief chats I had with him in my rounds I was filled with admiration for his Christian courage.

I of course offered him the Sacrament and he said he would like to receive it if he got any worse – and had he lived he would have communicated on the Monday morning (to-day) – when we laid him to rest – but he passed away far more quickly than the doctors had anticipated.’

Nurse (Sister) Kathleen J Cooney wrote to Mrs Loring:

‘After he came round from the anaesthetic he was quite cheerful and happy about himself, and even about five minutes before he died asked me how long it would be before he would be hopping around and if it would not be much sooner than if he had not had the amputation. A minute or so after he became unconscious and just passed peacefully away.’

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What makes William Loring so special in the history of British universities is that he was the only effective chief executive and university chief who volunteered for front line military action during the Great War and did not return.

He not only laid the college’s key foundations for academic excellence and educational leadership, but was an incredibly courageous soldier who gave his life  for his country at the age of 50 during the Gallipoli campaign.

He was a decorated warrior having served valiantly in the second Boer War of 1899-1902. 

As Warden he oversaw the convening and development of an officer cadet force at the College, and enthusiastically rejoined his Regiment, The Scottish Horse, on the outbreak of the First World War.

No other university chief in Britain would  be grievously wounded in front line action in the ill-fated invasion of Turkey, die from his wounds on a hospital ship, and be buried at sea in the Aegean. Read More »

Goldsmiths- How it all began 120 years ago in 1904

Commemorative card celebrating the opening of The Goldsmiths Company’s Technical and Recreative Institute in New Cross in 1891. Image: Goldsmiths Special Collections.

Goldsmiths as a university was conceptualised, developed and founded during the years 1903, 1904 and 1905.

In 1903 the Goldsmiths’ Company in the City of London realised that it could not continue philanthropically funding the Goldsmiths Technical and Recreative Institute- a hugely successful experiment in working class further education in New Cross serving thousands of people from all over London.

In 1904, the Company decided to offer the building and grounds to the University of London.

There had been three educational institutions on the site before London University took it over.

A boys’ private school, the Counter Hill Academy, was present between 1792 and 1838.

The Royal Naval School New Cross operated in the specially built main building from 1843 to 1889 which is largely still standing as the Richard Hoggart main building, though the distinctive neo-Wren chimneys were destroyed during WW2.

The front of the Goldsmiths’ Institute during the 1890s. Image: Goldsmiths’ Company archives and Special Collections Goldsmiths, University of London.

The Goldsmiths’ Company’s Technical and Recreative Institute bought the site and extended the buildings with a roof over the first quadrangle from 1891 until the decision to end its funding and activities by the autumn of 1904.

There is the famous letter from Sir Walter Prideaux written on the 29th February 1904: ‘My proposal is that the Goldsmiths’ Company shall present to the University of London the site and buildings known as the Goldsmiths’ Institute, at New Cross, with the fittings, apparatus, and equipment which they contain.’

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