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 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.]

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.’

‘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.’

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.’

-o-

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. Loring was a Renaissance man for his age.

In the Roman tradition of carrying the sword in one hand as a soldier defending nation and empire, he held the scrolls of learning in the other as a distinguished Cambridge scholar, archaeologist, barrister and educationalist.

Goldsmiths has published the pages of its December 1914 magazine the Goldsmithian, containing a fascinating letter sent by Loring following his re-enlistment one hundred and ten years ago. Loring is certainly gung ho and encouraging students and staff to join up:

‘If this war continues, there will be opportunity of enlistment, with the full approval of the Board of Education, even for students who are committed to a course, perhaps a shortened course of pedagogic training.

I venture to hope that many will avail themselves of the opportunity.

And to those who do so I can wish nothing better than that the fortune of war may send them where their services will be drawn upon to the uttermost, and faith receive its keenest edge.

This will, I believe, be good for the country, good for themselves, and good to the profession to which they belong.’

Loring was somewhat at a loss as to what to say to his women staff and students except ‘I have addressed myself, inevitably, to the men rather than to the women,’ and sending them ‘cordial Christmas greetings.’

There is some charm in the history of a college and university which has employed so many Marxist-Leninists, anti-militarists, pacifists, and counter-imperialists having a first Chief Executive who was a decorated warrior and soldier who gave his life to his country. 

Goldsmiths’ appeal and culture has the creativity of its avant-garde, non-conformist thinking and ability to agitate intellectually, politically and culturally.

If William Loring had some extra-spiritual ability to think outside of his historical context, surely he would have been proud of the generation of academia that flourishes more than a century after he graced the corridors of what is now known as the Richard Hoggart main building.

The Edwardian period was characterized by a cultural division of gender in terms of male and female students having separate corridors to walk up and down and, indeed, the staff official photographs symbolized the difference.  

All staff and students attended Morning Assembly where hymns were sung combined with Christian religious addresses and readings. All the students had to attend by register a mid-day meal with the Warden and senior colleagues wearing their academic gowns at a high table.

The School of Art had to sit at a separate table that was positioned on a lower level. They were also paid much less.  This was a time when women were campaigning for the right to vote in Parliamentary elections through the suffragist and suffragette movements.

But in the midst of the social oppression of this period, Goldsmiths was pioneering artistic dimensions in teaching and learning.

One of the first prospectuses for Art is shown in a facsimile of the leaflet published at the time.

It should be noted men and women were not allowed to participate in the same Life Classes for Nude Figure and Modelling.

William Loring was the fourth son of the Reverend Edward Henry Loring, Vicar of Cobham and later Rector of Gillingham, Norfolk.

Three of the four brothers would not survive active service during the First World War. He had an elitist education though it can be presumed the privilege of his entry into the finest private schools was achieved by a combination of scholarship and clerical bursaries.  

He went to Fauconberg School in Beccles, Suffolk, then to Eton where he was a King’s Scholar and winner of the Newcastle Scholarship.

At King’s College Cambridge, he was a Scholar, winner of the Bell and Battie Scholarships, and the Chancellor’s Medal.

He took First Class in both parts of the Classical Tripos becoming a college Fellow and was awarded the Craven Studentship of Archaeology.

It is reported that he had ‘a brilliant career’ as an archaeologist with several years’ work in the British School of Archaeology in Athens where he conducted excavations at Megalopolis.

He joined the civil service in 1894 as an examiner in the Education Department, was Private Secretary to Sir John Gorst and Sir William Anson, and Director of Education to the West Riding County Council prior to his appointment for ten years as the first Warden of Goldsmiths College.

He was also a qualified Barrister at Law of the Inner Temple and a member of 2 Hare Court Chambers. The first history of Goldsmiths College, ‘The Forge’ edited by Dorothy Dymond and published in 1955, records that:

‘His ten strenuous years as Warden included notable Presidency of the Training College Association. […] Innumerable tributes from many quarters were paid to his integrity, his leadership, his widespreading influence.

His was a dedicated spirit and, in the words recorded in the Delegacy Minutes, “by the imprint of his character he gave a high tone to the College.” In an address to the Old Students in the Great Hall a month after the Warden’s death Mr Raymont said: “As long as Goldsmiths College lasts, I think it may be said of him in this place that he, being dead, yet speaketh.”‘

A.E. Firth’s second history of Goldsmiths published in 1991 stated:

“Loring and his colleagues intended right from the start to foster the growth of what might be called a ‘College Spirit’.

Many of the students in the early years had little in the way of secondary education and had everything to learn about intellectual and cultural matters not touched on in their school classrooms.

Some of them for example had hardly read a word of English Literature. So he and his colleagues took the lead in developing all kinds of non-academic corporate activities, a Literary and Debating Society, Musical and Dramatic Societies, Athletic Clubs and the like.

He himself raised and commanded an Officer’s Training Corps. No doubt this corporate College spirit sometimes manifested itself in a sort of rugger club rowdiness.

But the testimony of early generations of students does show that these efforts were remarkably successful. The way in which the Old Students’ Association flourished during its first six decades also shows how warmly its members felt about the College.”

-o-

A fascinating insight into what it was like to be a student at Goldsmiths while William Loring was Warden has been provided by L R Reeve in his 1974 book Among those Present: Very Exceptional People. 

Lawrence Robert Reeve was trained as a teacher at Goldsmiths between 1913 and 1915 and would go on to have a distinguished career as a teacher in the years that followed.

He enlisted in the British Army himself shortly after passing his second year exams in July 1915 and would see active service himself in France, Salonica and Palestine during the Great War in the London Regiment and receive the British War and Victory Medals and the Silver War Badge.

In the chapter devoted to ‘Captain Loring’ across pages 21 to 24 of his book, he wrote:

‘Captain Loring was tall, dark and intellectual, and one of the most distinguished-looking men of his time. From the very beginning of my studies at Goldsmiths’ College, the largest training college in England, I noted that his presence at any gathering which attracted my attendance always created the most interest.

Moreover, whenever I saw him, alone or with others, my eyes were focussed (sic) in his direction more than anywhere else. One felt that he possessed an intensity, an immaculate honesty and an inflexible justice in all his dealings. At the moment I can think of only one other man who stimulated my interest so powerfully. That was Dr J. S. Myers, whom I shall mention later.

I never saw the Warden other than dignified; yet his dignity was not exaggerated, for his daily manner was natural and without any apparent effort, and I think that on one occasion when I was present his self-possession was rather tested, for soon after we juniors had begun our college education we were all invited, one group at a time, to take tea with the Warden.

When my group’s turn came I was the prefect and felt more than a little awkward. In fact the only member really at ease was the host himself. I remember even today his consummate tact and even flow of conversation, his clever questioning and his perfect timing in terminating the social hour at the right moment.

My last few minutes were an agony. Ought I, on behalf of the others, to thank the Warden for his hospitality? No previous experience came to my aid so the right procedure was fifty-fifty.

Anyhow I expressed our appreciation for the event and felt much happier later when I found that most of the other prefects had acted similarly when they took tea with the college’s highest authority. I repeat, none of us was really at ease, yet I am sure we looked back with pleasure at a courteous invitation and perfect hospitality.

No one in my hearing ever accused Mr Loring of sarcasm. It was never a weapon in his armoury for maintaining discipline. Yet when the need arose he could exercise his authority firmly and take appropriate action. He was respected by everyone of the thousand odd staff and students in all departments.

Furthermore, there was no facetiousness mixed with his undoubted wit: a faculty he rarely exercised in college; yet I remember as a junior that at one debate he took the chair, and just before closing the proceedings he delighted his young audience by rendering a long quotation relating to the evening’s theme and concluding, “There! it’s years since I learned those lines and I am glad to find my memory isn’t too bad.”

It was evident too that our chairman enjoyed every moment of the debate.

The next year, when I was secretary to the college debating society, I had to organize a mock parliament: my worst headache, but still a delightful memory.

Asking the Warden whether he would take a leading part in the proceedings, he very cordially agreed and most properly chose the role of Speaker.

No one on the college staff could have done it better, and I am sure that many Speakers who sit in their regalia in the House of Commons, could they have seen the Warden’s faultless control and directives would have appreciated his effectiveness. Was his triumphant evening, I wonder, due to King’s College, Cambridge?

Then, it would be remiss not to refer to his interest in social activities. Unlike some lecturers, whose interest outside the lecture room is very casual, Mr Loring showed his concern for the full expression of sporting events.

He was a spectator at football, rugby, cricket, in fact most sports which led to the all-round development of young people, and his obvious educational target must have penetrated into the mind of the most unobservant collegian.

From his aristocratic, intellectual appearance one might never have suspected any military background, yet he had fought in the South African War.

When the 1914 nightmare commenced one would have thought that if any man could justify exemption it would have been the Warden responsible for a college associated with over one thousand students.

No exemption was sought by Captain Loring, who decided to answer the call of a duty which he considered even greater than that of the master of a large college. Hence Captain Loring listened to the call of the pipers for he reported to the headquarters of The Scottish Horse.

Here I may say that I shouldn’t think the word ‘example’ would be a very prominent reason for his decision to undertake active service. He simply decided he ought to join the army. He was killed in the Dardanelles.

Perhaps it was about 1930 when a friend and I were marvelling once more at the superb architecture of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge, that we came across the Roll of Honour, a very lengthy list of some of England’s finest young manhood. I asked my companion if he could see the name of Loring.

He could; and I noted that the name was near that of Rupert Brooke. Since then I have often wondered whether the Warden would have felt a sombre pleasure at the idea of his name being adjacent to that of England’s best known contemporary poet.

Culture, integrity, tact, courage, wit, humanity, artistry are of course emblems of most of man’s greatest claims to be above the animal level. Captain Loring had them all, and none who knew him could scrutinize the perfect bust at Goldsmiths’ College without experiencing an emotional and proud moment.’

These recollections of William Loring are rather hagiographical. In reality, Loring was also something of a mysterious and complicated character.

It seems so much is known about him and at the same time so little. For example, he was very close friends with the Riddle of the Sands author Erskine Childers. Childers and Loring had been comrades in arms fighting for the British Army in South Africa during the Boer War.

They dined and had good craic together as members of the Savile club in London’s Mayfair which was always known for its convivial companionship and encapsulated in the motto Sodalitas Convivium.

Nine years after Loring died in the Dardanelles, his friend Childers would be executed during the Irish Civil War. 

It would have been fascinating to read of any surviving correspondence between these two men and listen to their conversation. When they were alive had it been the friendship of a patriotic and imperialist Loring and Irish Nationalist Childers? 

While it seems so many people were pleased to recall Loring’s integrity, hard work and discipline, his rather Spartan personality made some members of his staff somewhat apprehensive about answering social invitations to Blackheath where Loring liked to turn the heating off and leave the windows open even during the colder months of the year.

One account refers to him as neither being an enthusiast of small talk nor particularly effusive in conversation.

His minimalist diffidence had to be compensated for by his much more chatty wife Theo. Mary Theodosia Thackeray married William Loring in 1905, the very year he was appointed Warden of Goldsmiths.

He was 39 and she was 33. Their son John Henry, known as ‘Jack’ was born in 1906.

The last two letters that Captain William Loring wrote to Jack from the Dardanelles represent another desperately moving legacy of the personal loss experienced by families during the Great War. Jack was his only son and the young boy was only 9 years old when he lost his father.

-o-

‘Mediterranean Expeditionary Force 29th September 1915.

My dear Jack,

I have just got your letters of Aug. 28th and Sept 7th, both written at Mapledurham. I am very glad you saw Rachel and Teddie and David there, and Hal and your other cousins at Blackheath, and that you played cricket both at Blackheath and at Mapledurham.

You must have enjoyed those trips in the boat and the launch. I am surrounded by camps full of soldiers, some sound and some sick (in great hospital-camps); and  in the harbour are men-of-war, and transports, and store-ships etc.

One of the men-of-war, the “Albion”, is commanded by your uncle Ernest, and I often see him.

Tomorrow I am going from here to the Gallipoli Peninsula, where the fighting is; but I don’t know whether I shall be in the fire-trenches at once or not. I was in the Peninsula once before, but only for a few days.

I am glad you mean to keep the letter I wrote you just before I sailed. And you will remember what I said in it.

Your very loving FATHER.’

-o-

-o-

Mediterranean Expeditionary Force 19th October 1915

My dear Jack,

I was glad to get your letter of September 19th a few days ago, and I hope I shall have lots of letters from you now. That letter was written just after you got back to school; and before you get this answer your Term will be more than half through; – that shows how far off I am, and how slow the posts in war-time are.

I am writing this in a sort of “sand-house”- only it is not sand but ordinary earth- where we have our meals. It is dug down about 5 feet below the level of the ground, and has a bank about two feet high round 3 of the sides, so that bullets from the enemy on the hills in front can’t touch us, but can only fly over our heads.

On the 4th side there is hardly any risk because it faces the sea, and there are no Turks there, but only British ships.

In the middle of this “dug-out” (as it is called) a block of earth is left as a table and at the side, ledges of earth are left as seats; and here I and two friends have all our meals. And I sleep in a much smaller “dug-out”, without table or seats, but roofed over with boughs of trees,-  such a queer little place.

Great guns shoot over our heads from ships to hills and from one hill to another; and aeroplanes often fly over – some English and some Turkish,- the English to see what the Turks are doing.

I can hear an aeroplane at this moment, but don’t see it yet. If we could drive the Turks from these hills in front of us and get onto them ourselves, we might soon get to Constantinople; but we haven’t managed to do it yet.

It is a queer sort of life.

Your loving FATHER.

[The original letter has pasted in the top left hand corner of the first page a small cutting of the announcement of Captain Loring’s death in one of the national newspapers of the time.

The Latin quotation placed at the end of the notice: ‘Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori’ would be the title of one of Wilfred Owen’s most poignant and famous poems of the Great War.]

-o-

Mrs Theo Loring remained at Allerton House, 3 Grote’s Buildings after his death and at the time of the 1921 Census she was being attended to by general servant Maud Gladding.

Her sister Ada Beatrice Thackeray, also born in Eton, Buckinghamshire, was staying with her at the time of the census return. Theo Loring described her occupation as ‘Home Duties and Social Work for the Church.’

She would pass away at the age of 76 in Winchester in 1948.

-o-

While it would appear that Loring fostered a classical and orthodox tradition in education, I suspect this encounter between middle-class, lower-middle class, and upper working class backgrounds would generate a creativity and dynamism that would later make the College unique in terms of practice media, arts and cultural expression.

Seeds were being sown.  Building surveying was taught through practice on the college green.

And this image from an annual sports day suggests the sexes operated a ritual of separation when most of the time they were in contact and experiencing the beginning of substantial social progress in terms of the move towards equality and representation.

Many decades later, the college green would host practice by the all women’s rugby union team. And if there were ever any kind of military cadet force in the future, it is likely to have more women in uniform than men.

Loring’s Boer War Service

William Loring was a volunteer for the Boer War joining the Imperial Yeomanry (Lothian) as a private in his 35th year in 1900. He was later promoted to Corporal and then commissioned in the Scottish Horse Battalion.

He joined the fighting during the conflict’s bloodiest and most violent period.

Over a hundred thousand white Boers had been detained in concentration camps and many died through starvation and disease. The guerrilla war was often merciless.

The British gained the upper hand by learning to be mobile, understand the terrain, and match the Boer farmers for marksmanship, ruthlessness, and cunning.

Taking part in the conflict could have been seen as a single man seeking adventure in a dramatic Imperial story that dominated the media world of the time. 

The mounted infantry was a glamorous aspect of the British army’s operations that would be intensely reported on by newspaper and book publishers.

Loring was severely wounded and awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal, mentioned in despatches, and also received The Queen’s Medal with three clasps for taking part in action at Cape Colony, Orange Free State, Transvaal, in South Africa in 1901. He was promoted to captain 30th March 1903.  

This is the war diary account of the battle, written in military speak, in which he was recognized for distinguished conduct in the field and sustained his serious wounds:

‘[2526: 2539-2702] a farm in the South African Republic (Rustenburg district; North West), 25 km west of Rustenburg. On the afternoon of 29 September 1901, Col R.G. Kekewich’s column halted on the farm near a drift across the Selons River and made preparations for the defence of the bivouac site.

The column comprised five companies of the 1st The Sherwood Foresters (Derbyshire) regiment, two squadrons of the Scottish Horse (a colonial unit), the 27th (Devonshire) company and 48th (North Somerset) company of the 7th Imperial Yeomanry and the 28th battery, Royal Field Artillery.

Commanded by Asst Cmdt-Gen J.H. de la Rey, a force left Dwarsspruit on the night of 29/30 September 1901 to attack the British bivouac.

The main assault led by Reg. Gen J.C.G. Kemp was from the bed of the Selons River on the west side of the bivouac.

A patrol found by the 27th (Devonshire) company came across the advancing burghers and alerted the British troops.

De la Rey had also sent two groups to outflank the British camp and one was reported to be in the rear of the camp.

With a group of cooks, orderlies and batmen, Maj C.N. Watts, The Sherwood Foresters (Derbyshire) regiment soon discovered there was little danger from this quarter and swung round to attack the Boer left supported by details from the The Border regiment, Scottish Horse and Imperial Yeomanry. Wrapping up this flank, the Boer line was now enfiladed and the burghers began to retire.

Boer losses were 11 killed, including Cmdt T.P. Boshoff, 35 wounded and ten burghers taken prisoner; the British lost 63 killed and mortally wounded and 151 wounded including Kekewich. Pte W. Bees, Sherwood Foresters, was awarded the Victoria Cross for gallantry during this action.

HMG IV pp.293-298 and 703 (map no.59); Times V pp.376385 (map facing p.382); Wulfsohn cap.21 (maps on pp.183 and 185).’

A more journalistic account is to be found in volume 7 of the South Africa and the Transvaal War series:

‘At Dawn on 29th, he and Delarey (who had evidently followed Colonel Kekewich from the Valley of the Toelani) made a lunge at the British camp near Moedwil.

From three sides they, some 1200 of them, turned a blizzard of lead on Colonel Kekewich’s force. The Derbyshire Regiment, with 1 and a half companies, held the drift to left of the camp.

The mounted troops (Imperial Yeomanry and Scottish Horse) extended round the right and front of the camp, and joined up with the Infantry outpost on the drift. Firing was heard at 4.40 A.M. on the north-west, and subsequently it was found that a patrol going out from the southerly piquet, furnished by the Devonshire Imperial Yeomanry, had been attached.

Then closer and closer came the enemy upon the Yeomanry piquet. Every gallant fellow dropped. Soon the Boers were established to the east of the river and commenced an attack on another Imperial Yeomanry piquet. The officer in command fell, and nearly all his men around him. 

The enemy, ensconced in the broken and bushy ground near the bed of the river, continued the aggressive, while all in camp rushed to reinforce the piquets except a small party of the Derbyshire Regiment, which remained to guard ammunition, &c., the Boers having annihilated two piquets.

The Boers now pushed up the river, outflanking the Derbyshire piquet holding the main drift, and, in spite of really superb resistance, occupied the position. For this reason : but one man of the gallant number remained whole!

The camp now was flooded with bullets, and all ranks under various officers made for the open, while the guns strove to keep the enemy, indistinguishable from British in the dusk of the morning, at a distance.

Captain Watson, Adjutant Scottish Horse, who was mortally wounded, announced the arrival towards the east of the enemy, whereupon Major Watts with a strong body of the Derbyshire Regiment moved out to confront them, while Major Browne (Border Regiment) with a number of men- servants, cooks, orderlies, and any one who came to hand- prepared with fixed bayonets to charge the enemy in the bushes.

The Boers had given up the east, however, and continued to file from the north till the Imperial Yeomanry and Scottish Horse, under Captains Rattray, Dick-Cunyngham, and Mackenzie, joined in the general advance and threatened to outflank them; then, seeing their danger, they fled to their horses and galloped madly to the north, under fire of the British guns.

Colonel Duff, with two squadrons, had been prepared for pursuit, but owing to the heavy losses sustained, especially among the horses, the project was impossible.

The fierce, determined, carefully-planned attack lasted two hours, and the success of the repulse was mainly due to the amazing gallantry of all ranks, especially of the 1st Battalion Derbyshire Regiment.’

You will notice that the language used here is as if the writer were describing a sporting contest. 

The reality of war had in fact left huge casualties of dead, dying and maimed on the battle-field as well as an appalling death toll of civilians in the notorious concentration camps. 

Contemporary historians prefer to describe this conflict as ‘The South African War’ in order to acknowledge that the narrative encompassed the participation and suffering of this part of Africa’s indigenous Black peoples.

There was opposition to the war in Britain as well as abroad. The liberal newspaper The Daily News criticised the imperialist nature and purpose of the conflict. The influential journalist and editor W.T. Stead and Liberal politician David Lloyd George were among those opposed to war against the Boers. There was a substantial peace movement protesting military action. 

Irish nationalists even provided a three hundred strong contingent to fight with the Boers and Kaiser Wilhelm’s Germany also supported the Boers’ side.  The conflict was complex with one quarter of Boer commandos eventually fighting on the British side by the spring of 1902.

Peace was eventually negotiated by the end of May 1902 with the Boers surrendering sovereignty, the official position of the Dutch language guaranteed, and Britain agreeing to pay the Boers £3 million in compensation for ‘war damage.’

No safeguards were put in place to ensure an equal franchise for non-white South Africans leaving a bitter legacy and the foundations for South Africa’s future apartheid regime. 

Around 22,000 British soldiers were buried in South Africa having died mainly from disease as well as battlefield wounds. Around 7,000 Boer troops had been killed along with 2,000 Black auxiliaries. The war had substantially increased the British national debt.

It has been estimated that 25,000 Boer civilians and 20,000 Black and Coloured Africans interred in the concentration camps died from disease and starvation.

Historians have argued that the many controversies and humanitarian suffering of the war undermined the fervour for British Imperialism and led to the rise of liberal political opinion.

It was more of a salutary humiliation rather than a triumph of Empire.

It is difficult to fully determine William Loring’s views and perspective apart from acknowledge his volunteering and willing military service in the cause of Great Britain and her Empire.  Any thoughts he may have committed to paper on the morality and politics have not survived. 

William Loring’s First World War Service

It was inevitable that William Loring would answer the call to arms in 1914 with the outbreak of the First World War. As The Forge reports, the patriotic and military spirit, cultivated by Loring’s leadership was followed by students and staff:

‘Nearly 100 students in the Training Department enlisted before completing their College courses. About 600 Old ‘Smiths were known to be on active service. Decorations included 1 D.S.O., 11 Military Crosses, 13 Military Medals, 5 D.C.M.s, 2 Croix de Guerre, and 10 Mentioned in Despatches. Two members of the teaching staff (Captain W. Loring and Lieut. W. T. Young), one member of the office staff, 92 Training Department students and 11 from the Evening and Art Department were killed.’

‘A brave soldier and a nature’s gentleman, who had not one thought except for his country.’

It seems rather remarkable that the now married and family man, William Loring, should return to front line duties at the age of 50 at a time when life expectancy, even for the middle classes, was much less than it is now.

He rejoined the Scottish Horse in August 1914 and served on home defence in various parts of Britain before leaving for the Mediterranean in August 1915.

He and his regiment landed at Gallipoli on 1st September.

By October 21st he was critically wounded in action. He died three days later on the hospital ship, Devanha, taking him to Egypt. He was buried in the Aegean Sea.

Such a ceremony would have taken place on deck with the body placed on a slanting board, covered with a union jack.

The burial service would be read by the Padre or Captain of the ship with troops and medical staff attending.

This remarkable account of his bravery and gallantry was written by Brigadier-General Lord Tullibardine, commanding the Scottish Horse, in a letter to Loring’s uncle- General Sir John Watson- a Victoria Cross holder:

‘I met your son the other day at Suvla, and he asked me to let you know about Capt. Loring.

Loring died the gentleman and the soldier that he was.

I had just taken over some bad lines 600 yards from the enemy, waterlogged, enfiladed, commanded, sniped.

I determined to shove on to the crest line between us, and, if possible, rush it in one night.

The key I considered to be White House in the centre.

The Turks used to crawl up in the bush, and our casualties were frequent. Officer Commanding 2nd Scottish Horse was ordered to send out a squadron of the 3rd Scottish Horse to form a point d’appui for the leading squadron in case of trouble.

Also, they were to dig a communication trench back to our lines. Col McBarnet selected Loring as his most reliable squadron leader.

All went well.

Within half an hour of starting a telephone came to say that Loring had occupied the house.

Later came the message that the leading party had retired less Loring and three or four wounded men under heavy fire to A.

I immediately telephoned and told Col. McBarnet to reoccupy White House without delay, and sent Major Souter, I.A., a regular officer, out to take charge of the operation, which completely succeeded.

The house was occupied, and 100 yards of trench dug and consolidated before morning with very few casualties, despite a good deal of opposition.

The result is that by advancing at much the same time my two flanks, we have been able to push forward our line on an average 300 yards closer to the Turks, on better ground in every sense, for a distance of 950 yards, and shortening the line 250 yards as well…Above is to a great extent due to Loring’s grit at first.

It appears he went out, and all was well, and he telephoned back to that effect.

He then went back and started the men digging.

By this time a heavy fire was opened on the party by snipers from all around. Loring behaved, as always, with coolness and gallantry, but soon was himself severely wounded- thigh smashed.

While fully conscious he continued to take command, but as he got weaker and the fire increased, he ordered his subaltern, 2nd Lieut. Rodger, quite a lad, to leave him to the Turks, not to lose anymore men on him or the operation.

Rodger then ordered the men back, and they retired unwillingly, as they were devoted to Loring, and did not like going back and leaving him.

Rodger himself, having got the men under cover, gallantly but wrongly went back to Loring, and stuck to him and the wounded men through heavy fire; but as he had left his men and did not realize that he ought to have assumed command, and not taken orders from a wounded officer in a state of collapse, I did not mention him for ‘doing well.’

Poor Loring’s last sensible thoughts were for his men, and never mind him.

He refused to be carried off the field.

However, as I have told you, all ended well, and the operation which he had started and planned panned out just as we’d all hoped.

Photographs of the Gallipoli campaign found in the papers of Captain William Loring after his death in October 1915. They show dug-outs, trenches, embarkation, terrain and troop disposition. 

He made his dispositions well and skillfully, and the mere fact that he himself was still out and had not retired and was not a prisoner, was the kind of flash to me to send back his men at the double without a second’s pause or hesitation, and right willingly they went.

I did not see Loring again, as I had to personally superintend the consolidation of our line.

But all told me how fine he was in hospital.

I think he knew, but he never showed it.

The doctor told me when he went on the ship that the chances were not good, but he might do it.

We have lost an old and good friend, a brave soldier and a nature’s gentleman, who had not one thought except for his country, and whose greatest pride was to think that he had been permitted to serve it on service.

I think he died as he would have had it.

Young Rodger since then has again behaved with conspicuous gallantry.

I have recommended him for the military Cross, not only for the new act, but for the Loring incident as well.’

-o-

William Loring’s widow, Theo, had no body to bury and mourn.

As outlined above, she received the news of her husband’s death by telegram to Allerton House, Grote’s Buildings, Blackheath.

Their son, John Henry, was 9 years old at the time.

Loring was posthumously mentioned in Despatches by General Sir Charles Monro in the London Gazette of 11th July 1916 for ‘gallant and distinguished service in the field.’

His World War One medal card sets out very briefly an official record of his war service and the medals his widow received.

The tragedy of William Loring’s death had much wider implications and was felt and reported throughout the country.

He was the third son to have died while serving in the armed forces by October 1915 as these reports in regional newspapers so poignantly indicate.

Dundee Evening Telegraph 4th November 1915

‘Scottish Horse Captain.

The death is announced of Captain William Loring, D.C.M., 2d Scottish Horse, which occurred on board His Majesty’s hospital ship Devanha, of wounds received in action at the Dardanelles.

Captain Loring was the fourth son of the late Rev. E.H. Loring, rector of Gillingham, Norfolk. After a brilliant career at Cambridge and several years’ work in the British School of Archaeology at Athens, he was appointed by Lord Rosebery an examiner in the Education Department, and later held various important positions in different parts of the country.

He joined the Imperial Yeomanry as a trooper in the South African war, took part in numerous engagements, was mentioned in despatches, awarded the medal for Distinguished Conduct in the field, and received in 1901 a commission as lieutenant in the Scottish Horse.

His brother, Col. Walter Loring, commanding 2d Battalion Warwickshire Regiment has been killed in action in France, and another brother, Major Charles Loring, 37th Lancers, Indian Army, died near Givenchy.

A third brother, Captain Ernest Loring, R.N., commands His Majesty’s battleship Albion.’

Hull Daily Mail 3rd November 1915

‘Three Brothers Killed.

Captain William Loring, D.C.M., 2nd Scottish Horse, died of wounds received in Gallipoli in the hospital ship Devanha on October 24th.

Formerly in the Education Department and private secretary to Sir John Gorst and Sir William Anson, he was at the time of his death warden of Goldsmiths’ College, University of London, a post he had held for 10 years.

He served in South Africa as a trooper in the Imperial Yeomanry, was mentioned in despatches, awarded the D.C.M., and received a commission in the Scottish Horse.

On October 24th last year his brother, Colonel Loring, Warwickshire Regiment, fell in action; in December last another brother, Major Loring, died near Givenchy; and a third brother, Captain Ernst Loring, R.N., commands H.M.S. Albion.’

The Liverpool Daily Post reported on 3rd November 1915:

‘Cheshire Family’s Losses.

News has been received by Mr. John Loring, of Doddington Cottage, Nantwich, of the death of his brother, Captain William Loring, of the Scottish Horse, who has succumbed to wounds received in Gallipoli.

Two other brothers of Mr. Loring’s, one of whom was Lieut.Colonel Loring, of the Warwickshires, who was killed when gloriously leading his regiment into action in France, have fallen. Mr. Loring has also lost a son and two cousins, whilst his eldest son, Captain E.J. Loring, has been twice wounded.’

The Cheshire Chronicle reported on 10th November 1915:

‘Mr. J. Loring’s Bereavement.

Still another bereavement has befallen Mr. John Loring of Doddington, Nantwich, by the announcement that his brother, Captain Wm. Loring, Scottish Horse, has died from wounds received in the Gallipoli Peninsula, Dardanelles, on October 24th.

The captain served as a lieutenant in the Boer War, and was wounded in four places. This is Mr. Loring’s third brother to be killed in the War. Mr. Loring has also lost a son and two cousins, and his eldest son Captain E.J. Loring, has been twice wounded in the Persian Gulf.

The following official announcement appeared on Wednesday morning:-

LORING.- On the 24th October, at sea, on board H.M. hospital ship Devanha, in the Mediterranean, Captain William Loring, D.C.M., 2nd Scottish Horse, Warden of Goldsmith’s College, University of London, fourth son of the late Rev. E.H.Loring, died of wounds received in action at Dardanelles aged 50.

Captain William Loring, D.C. M., fourth son of the late Rev. E.H. Loring, Rector of Gillingham, Norfolk, belonged to the 2nd Scottish Horse.

He was 50 years of age. After a brilliant career at Cambridge, and several years’ work in the British School of Archaeology at Athens, he was appointed by Lord Rosebery an examiner in the Education Department, and later held various important positions in different parts of the country.

He joined the Imperial Yeomanry as a trooper in the South African War, where he took part in numerous engagements, was mentioned in despatches, and awarded the medal for distinguished conduct in the field. In 1901 he received a commission as lieutenant in the Scottish Horse.

His brother, Colonel Walter Loring, commanding 2nd Batt. Warwickshire Regt., has been killed in action in France. Another brother, Major Charles Loring, 37th Lancers, Indian Army, died near Givenchy. A third brother, Capt. Ernest Loring, R.N., commands his Majesty’s battleship Albion in the Mediterranean.’

Significance of his letters to historians of the First World War

Loring’s widow, Theo, provided extracts of the detailed letters he wrote to her from the Gallipoli campaign to the Goldsmiths’ College magazine Goldsmithian which were first published in 1916.

The donation of all of his correspondence by his family to Goldsmiths Special Collections means military historians of the First World War, and in particular the Gallipoli campaign, are researching and analysing his writing as a significant primary source.

’10th October 1915

There is a regular alternation of units and squadrons between the “Fire-trenches” (i.e., the first line of all) and the “Support” trenches (of which the front ones may be 100 yards behind) and the “Reserve” trenches (perhaps a mile further back)- all approximate figures, as there are a good many rows altogether, necessary at different distances from the first as well as from each other…..The position in the “Fire” trenches when I was there may be best described as constant firing (especially at night) but very little fighting ;- waste of ammunition (both guns and small arms) enormous, but not much harm done.

The rifle fire which often suggests a big battle in progress, comes mainly from sentries behind their parapets, and the fire-trenches (presumably because they are so near the Turkish trenches) get very little shelling from the Turks. Gun-fire goes on at any hour of the day or night now British (from the ships and land batteries) now Turkish- and from four or five different directions, so that its source and its objective are often difficult to make out.

Often on the other hand one sees the flash and sees the burst- the shelling is a fine sight and an interesting one, tho’ one can’t as a rule tell at the time what actual damage is done- one only sees the cloud of dust churned up.

The gun-fire is at any hour, but not at all hours ; it is spasmodic and I have not yet found the man who can explain on what principle it is regulated, when it occurs I mean independently of rifle fire, and not in support of any organised attack. Possibly both sides are fairly short of ammunition and are allowed a limited amount of rounds per day, which commanders of ships and batteries let off at their own sweet wills !’ ‘

-o-

15th October 1915 (nine days before his death)

My dug-out is a hole in the ground, about 10 feet long- just wide enough for my valise and a margin for boots, haversack, etc,- and five feet deep ; roofed over with boughs and brushwood, above which I have laid my green Willesden canvas sheet to keep out rain. I have recesses in the side for my “equipment” my “pack,” etc., and my lantern hung in a corner behind my head.

I can improve on this dug-out if we occupy these trenches again after our next spell in the front lines ! meanwhile it does passably well.

The inconvenience of it is that there is nowhere to sit.

I am writing this letter in our mess-room,- a larger dug-out without covering (with a parapet or screen) in which we have left a square block of earth as a table in the centre, and earthen ledges as seats at the sides.

We found this here but have deepened and improved it, and are rather proud of it.

I think its airiness (which is not quite correct from a military point of view) contributes to our good health.

Rations are excellent- incomparably better than in S. Africa  both in amount and variety.

We could, quite decently, live upon them entirely as in the main the men do, but we usually have a box of mess stores to supplement them and are feeding like fighting-cocks.

A canteen is about to be opened on the beach which will enable both men and officers to keep them supplied.’

How William Loring is remembered more than 100 years later

The past is certainly another country.

The values and world of 1914 and 1915 seem so alien and different to the world of Goldsmiths College in the present.

The quaint mixture of early motor-car and horse-drawn traffic familiar to Loring before he and so many other students and staff left for the Great War have been replaced by the pollution of the South Circular, the noise of juggernauts and emergency vehicle sirens.

Though the architecture and shop front usage of the New Cross Road are not that different.

I believe it may be much harder for the radical and non-militaristic community of Goldsmiths in the present age to appreciate the patriotic and martial spirit of the college under Loring’s Wardenship.

There is also the fascinating irony that for many decades the college has developed next to a part of London’s vibrant Turkish community.

To think that Loring and so many Goldsmiths’ alumni fought for Great Britain and Empire against the ancestors of our local Turkish community when Istanbul had been capital of the Ottoman Empire.

For myself, as the son of gallant infantry officer, and a family with military service and sacrifice in the First and Second World War, I can certainly engage with the heritage of Loring’s legacy and military career.

And it is my intention through this article to give the noble first Warden respect and recognition in the new medium of online communication.

I hope this background can help the 21st century generations of students from all parts of the UK and abroad seen arriving below to enquire about their accommodation at Loring Hall to connect with a man of grit, a true gentleman, and servant to education and public service.

Different perspectives of the bust of William Loring, Imperial War Museum images of the Gallipoli Campaign and the sound of ‘The Red, White and Blue’ sung and performed by the King’s Military Band and its chorus, released by Regal in October 1914.

 

William Loring, first Warden of Goldsmiths College- an audio slideshow. from TimCrook on Vimeo.

Appendix One. Acting Warden Thomas Raymont’s address to a gathering of old students in the Great Hall of Goldsmiths’ College, University of London on the evening of 13th November 1915.

It is a difficult task that I have undertaken, to speak composedly about him whom we have so recently lost, but when I was invited to address you I felt it my duty to comply, because so large a gathering of Old Students cannot occur again for some months. I have tried to figure to myself as clearly as possible the successive stages of our late Warden’s most remarkable career, and I will now try to convey the result to you.

We who are much concerned with the education of children under fourteen naturally, and I believe rightly, regard that period of life as very important. Our late Warden, born in 1865, the son of the Rector of Gillingham in Norfolk, was sent at the age of nine to Beccles Grammar School. The school seems to have been a good example of the old country grammar school; it had a sound tradition and gave a sound education of the approved type. The boarders were sons of the clergy and gentry of the neighbourhood, and the day boys included the sons of local farmers and tradesfolk. I believe that this early experience, together with his military life, helps to account for our Warden’s easy attitude towards people whose upbringing and whose chances in life were widely different from his. You remember how he always took you for what you were essentially, and, so to speak, in the sight of God. There was no trace of condescension in his manner. There were indeed people whom he could not tolerate, and of those I shall speak before I have done. But every member of the College, and every servant of the College, could think of the Warden as one whose friendship he would never forfeit until he had forfeited honour.

Only a few years before young William Loring entered Beccles School, an assistant-commissioner to the Endowed Schools Commission had reported of it in these terms: “The master informed me that he had, and would, as a rule, at any time recommend the removal of a boy of great promise to some such school as Shrewsbury. One of his transplanted boys is now a Fellow of Trinity.” In pursuance of this policy, the little school of about three-score boys was destined to achieve another marked success, for in 1879 young Loring, now 14 years of age, passed on to Eton as a King’s Scholar.

Classics formed of course the main part of his intellectual fare at the great school, but, with characteristic thoroughness, he made excellent use of such opportunities as were afforded of cultivating modern subjects as well. And when in later years he would discuss, for example, the teaching of elementary science in this College, he would recall with evident pleasure his science lessons at school and would produce from a certain shelf the books he had used there, and used with profit. He never professed to be an expert in pedagogy, but he could bring to bear upon the discussion of a problem a richly stored and splendidly disciplined mind, and vivid recollections of what his school days had done for him. He had no patience with extreme advocates of “heuristic” methods. He could not bring himself to believe that a man must not venture to have notions about the distance of the earth from the sun unless he had personally measured it.

In 1885, having taken the Newcastle scholarship, he entered King’s College, Cambridge, where he took other Scholarships, won the Chancellor’s medal, and eventually became a fellow of his College. Then, as Craven Student, he joined the British School at Athens, and for four years worked at archaeology, obtaining also a practical mastery of the modern Greek. One of the last little services I was able to render him, when he knew he was to join the Mediterranean Force, was to pack up, and send him his grammar and dictionary of modern Greek, so that he might rub up his knowledge in case he could be useful as an interpreter.

Having finished his classical and archaeological studies, he was appointed an examiner in the Education Department, and in that connection was Private Secretary to Sir J. Gorst and afterwards to Sir William Anson. Incidentally, he qualified as a barrister at the Inner Temple.

But when in 1899 the South African War broke out, he threw up his post at the Education Department, enlisted as a trooper in the Imperial Yeomanry, and was made a corporal. The next year, when the war was believed to be at an end, he obtained his discharge and started for home. Hearing at Madeira that hostilities had been resumed, he insisted upon turning back. He took part in numerous engagements, was mentioned in despatches as a lieutenant in the Scottish Horse, was wounded at Moedwil and again mentioned in despatches.

On his return to civil life, the face of educational England began to be changed by the working of the Act of 1902. He held for some time the new post of Director of Education in the West Riding of Yorkshire, but in 1905, when this College was handed over by the Goldsmiths’ Company to the University of London, he was appointed Warden, and it was here that he spent nine out of the last ten years of his life. How strenuous those years were is partly known to all of you. His official duties were difficult and multifarious enough in all conscience but you know how he added to those duties a keen personal interest in the Students’ welfare, and how he fathered and mothered the various societies in which the general life of our large community takes concrete form.

And those who know of his activities outside the College tell the same tale. He was very careful not to undertake other work which might make him less efficient, but when he did undertake a piece of work he did it with all his might. His year of office as President of the Training College Association was epoch-making in the history of that body; and in connection with the joint Educational Conferences, and the Military Education Committee and the Appointments Board in the University of London, he did most useful work. Wherever the organisation of the University gave him scope, there his transcendent ability and patient industry made themselves felt. And in less conspicuous spheres, the local play-centre, the local boy scouts, and the local school managers, never sought his sympathetic support in vain. The teachers in the neighbouring evening institutes, too, ever found in him a ready helper and advisor. The testimony I have lately received from these and many other quarters, fills me with amazement at the amount of work the late Warden was able to accomplish.

I now reach what has proved to be the last stage of his crowded life. When the Great War broke out, and he had to exchange educational for military duties, I undertook, with much trepidation, but as my share of war service, to carry on his work during his absence. It was a source of great satisfaction to him that he was able to “clear up” the business of the session before he left, though in any case the beautiful order that prevailed among his papers, and the scholarly simplicity of all his arrangements, would have made relatively easy the task of taking over his complicated duties. For three months the Scottish Horse were in training in Doncaster, and then for nine months they took part in guarding the north-east coast.

My packet of letters from the Warden show him to have been stationed successively at Acklington, Fence Houses, Newcastle, Scarborough and Morpeth. But all this did not suit him in the least. He called it “playing at soldiering,” and he longed to be at the Front, notwithstanding that he had already lost two brothers in the Great War. At last the Scottish Horse, after having been trained as cavalry, joined the Mediterranean Force as infantry.

The Warden left this country for the Near East on August 18th. After spending some time at an “intermediate base”- the island of Lemnos- his regiment proceeded on October 10th to the principal scene of operations on the western coast of Gallipoli, where they were alternately in the fire, support and reserve trenches.

On the night of October 21-22, he was wounded whilst engaged in occupying and entrenching a position about 200 yards in front of the firing line and 200 yards from the Turkish trenches. His first thoughts, says the subaltern who was with him was for the safety of his men, and he refused to allow himself to be moved from where he lay under heavy fire until all his men were in the position of safety. On board the hospital ship amputation of the leg was found to be necessary. This he bore well, but owing to shock and to the fact that it was a case of what is called “gas gangrene” he gradually sank and passed away quite peacefully. So wrote the chaplain to Mrs. Loring, who has most kindly permitted me to see the letter, and several other letters of deep though poignant interest. And the chaplain adds: “I was filled with admiration for his Christian courage.”

The first intimation of the Warden’s death was received on Saturday, October 30th. You Old Students can partly imagine the effect of the sad news upon his former colleagues here. The Monday morning’s “Assembly” was held at the unwanted hour of 11.30, and after that we adjourned until next morning. It was too soon for me to speak with the necessary degree of composure about whom we had lost. I could only tell the Present Students how deeply my colleagues and I lamented that they were not to share with Past Students of the College the privilege of coming under the direct influence of that strong, sincere, and chivalrous soul. But, indeed, they must come under his influence indirectly, because as long as Goldsmiths’ College lasts, I trust it may be said of him in this place that he, being dead, yet speaketh.

You will, I know, be interested in listening to a few passages from the large number of letters I have received expressing sympathy with the College in its loss, because these letters show how out of appreciation of the late Warden was shared beyond these walls. One who worked with him in matters connected with the University of London wrote- “He was a noble and gallant man, a member of a noble and gallant family. To have had him as Principal and to have lost him in the way of honour, will be a just ground of pride to your College.” The head of a great London College wrote:- “He was personally known to many of us here, and was held in high and affectionate esteem; to those to whom he was not known personally, his work and record were matters of great pride. It must be some consolation to Goldsmiths’ College that their Warden has fallen in the finest causes that nations ever fought for.” The executive of the National Union of Teachers wrote:- “We mourn the loss of one who was wise in counsel, of great insight, and in full sympathy with those who came under his direction.” The Chairman of our Governing Body wrote:- “Ever since his appointment my feeling of gratitude has increased, as have my respect and affection for him as a friend. My sympathy goes out to you and to all members of the College in this calamity.”

The feeling of you Old Students was, I know, aptly expressed by one of your number who cannot be here to-day but who wrote to me:- “I have always regarded Captain Loring as the perfect type of English gentleman, and to-day I feel a proud though a sad man; proud that I had the great honour of seeing him, of talking with him, and of learning from him; but sorry beyond words that I shall not see him again.” About 50 of our Old Students at the front, “somewhere in France,” who heard the sad news on returning from 16 days in the firing line, wrote to Mrs. Loring:- “We knew him to be a keen soldier, and are proud to feel that we are fighting for the cause for which he has nobly fallen. To return to a Re-union at College without his presence seems terrible, but our admiration and respect for him will never die.” Finally, let me add the testimony of an old and valued member of our administrative staff, who wrote:- “The six years I spent at the College taught me to admire and respect him very deeply, and I have always felt that to his influence I owe a great deal, not only as regards my official career, but also in a far higher sense.”

Yes, it is that “far higher sense” that we shall always remember when our thoughts revert to him. I shall attempt no eulogy, because if I did so, I should see his grave reproving face before me as I spoke. But for your sakes I will tell you in a few sentences a little of the impression that ten years of his life and conversation have left upon me. He was a man of absolutely unswerving loyalty to principle. He was also a loyal and true-hearted friend. But if a choice had to be made, even in a comparatively small matter, between obliging a friend and compromising what he conceived to be a right principle, it was the friend that had to take second place. Beneath a somewhat stern exterior, there were hidden wells of human sympathy that were ever ready to burst forth when human sympathy was needed, – as I and many of you can abundantly testify. But if I were asked what quality of his character, I should say it was a deep-seated spirit of reverence; reverence for religion,- for yours and mine as well as his own, provided it were sincerely cherished and humbly lived by: reverence for the moral law; reverence for the great men and the great ideas of the past. I promised to tell you before I finished what kind of man he could not tolerate, and now I can do so. He had a scornful and unutterable contempt for the shallow scoffer.

Well, he is gone from us, and we shall not see him again in the flesh. But we have our sources of comfort. If he had to die, he died as he would have wished,- in the service of his country, at the call of duty, and in a great struggle for ideals which meant everything to him. He has left us a noble example of all manly virtues usually accounted womanly as well. Let me say in conclusion- and what I say to you I mean in all humility for myself also, – if ever we are tempted to be culpably slack in the discharge of duty, or to be satisfied with a careless, slipshod piece of work, or to form an ungenerous estimate of one from whom we may differ sharply in opinion, or to speak flippantly about things that ought to be held sacred,- if we are ever tempted to do any of these things, let us think of our late Warden, and be ashamed.

First published on pages 6 to 10 of the Goldsmithian magazine for 1916.

-o-

Appendix Two. Official obituary for Captain William Loring, 1920.

William Loring was born at Cobham Vicarage, Surrey, on July 2nd 1865. At the age of nine he went to the Fauconberge School, Beccles, Norfolk, and came to Eton as a K.S. in 1879. Mr. Broadbent was master in College at the time, and was also his tutor in his last year at Eton. He wrote an appreciation of him for the Eton College Chronicle after his death, describing him as a quiet, studious boy of marked independence of character. In 1884 he won the Newcastle. In the same year he became a Scholar of King’s College, Cambridge. He took a First Class in both parts of the Classical Tripos, and won the Bell and Battie Scholarships and the Chancellor’s Medal. He was elected Fellow of King’s and Craven Student of Archaeology, conducting excavations at Megalopolis for the British School at Athens. Throughout his life he kept in touch with archaeology, and was for some years secretary to the British Schools at Athens and Rome. He contributed articles to the Journal of Hellenic Studies, the following being afterwards reprinted as separate pamphlets: Some Ancient Routes in the Peloponnese, Four Fragmentary Inscriptions, and  A New Portion of the Edict of Diocletian from Megalopolis. He also collaborated with others in supplementary papers on the excavations at Megalopolis for the Society for Promotion of Hellenic Studies.

His career was a remarkable combination of scholastic and military achievements; his indomitable spirit, his passion for thoroughness, and his innate sense of duty and regard for discipline manifesting themselves equally in each of these two widely differing spheres of activity.

In 1894 he was appointed an examiner at the Board of Education, and, while there, he was private secretary to two successive Ministers of Education, viz., Sir John Gorst and Sir William Anson.

But, much as his work interested him and appealed to the scholastic side of his nature, the outbreak of the South African War called to his keen sense of patriotism, and in December, 1899, he left the Education Office temporarily, enlisted as a trooper in the Imperial Yeomanry, sailed for South Africa early in 1900, and served with distinction practically throughout the campaign. Quickly promoted to corporal, he took part in numerous engagements while serving with Lord Methuen’s column, was twice mentioned in despatches, severely wounded at Moedwil, and awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal. He received a commission in the Scottish Horse in 1901, and was promoted captain in 1903.

Eric Parker, referring to the South African War in his Eton in the Eighties, writes:-

“To think of that war is to remember at once the names of C.A.K. and M.H.K. Pechell, brothers who were killed almost within a week of each other, at Mafeking and Dundee, in the first few days of the war; of C.F.S. Vandeleur, who left school in 1887, and twelve years later commanded the Irish Guards; of W. Loring, Newcastle Scholar and Fellow of King’s, who gained the D.C.M. as a trooper at Moedwil; and of Gurdon-Rebow, of the Grenadier Guards, shot because he would not surrender.”

After the conclusion of this war, Loring was for a short time Director of Education to the West Riding County Council, and eventually became, in 1905, Warden of Goldsmiths’ College, University of London. He had held this last post for over ten years at the time of his death.

It would be impossible to over estimate the extent of his influence in the large Training Department which formed one side of Goldsmiths’ College. There he trained a continuous succession of students to be teachers in the elementary schools throughout the country, instilling into them his own ideal sense of duty, unfailing accuracy, and discipline, and inspiring them with patriotism. From the time of the inauguration of the Territorial Force, the Training Department supplied contingents of men to the 20th Battalion London Regiment (Blackheath and Woolwich). This was mainly due to his initiative and sustained effort; and when the war came his efforts were rewarded by a whole-hearted response to the call from a very large proportion of students past and present.

He took a keen interest in the many-sided life of the College, and also showed an active personal interest in the neighbouring Evening Institutes, Boy Scouts, and the Local Play-centre.

He served on the Military Education Committee and Appointments Board of the University of London, on the Joint Education Conference, the South African Colonization Society, and the Training College Association, his year of office as president of this Association being described as epoch making.

At the outbreak of the war in 1914 he rejoined his regiment, and, after a year of training and Home Defence, he sailed with the Scottish Horse for Gallipoli, landing there on Sept. 1st, 1915. On Oct. 21st he was severely wounded at Suvla, while advancing the line under heavy fire from the Turks. (Mentioned in despatches). He died on the 24th of October on board the Hospital Ship Devanha, and was buried at sea, in the Aegean.

His gentle but manly and fearless nature; his loving-kindness and thoughtfulness for others; his good comradeship and enjoyment of fun; and his faith in God; made him a most loveable character, and endeared him to all who knew him. And he died as he had lived every moment of his life- doing his Duty.

–

The following extracts from letters to his relations give an idea of the circumstances in which he met his death:-

(1) From Lord Tullibardine (the present Duke of Atholl), Brigadier-General, commanding Scottish Horse:-

“By this time a heavy fire was opened on the party. […] Loring behaved, as always, with coolness and gallantry, but soon was himself severely wounded- thigh smashed. While fully conscious he continued to take command, but as he got weaker, and the fire increased, he ordered his subaltern, 2nd Lieut. Rodger, to leave him to the Turks, not to lose any more men over him or the operation […] Rodger himself, having got the men under cover, gallantly […] went back to Loring, and stuck to him and the wounded men through a heavy fire […] Poor Loring’s last sensible thoughts were for his men, and never mind him. He refused to be carried off the field […] We have lost an old and good friend, a brave soldier and gentleman, who had not one thought except for his country, and whose greatest pride was to think that he had been permitted to serve it on service. I think he died as he would have had it.”

(2) From Lieut.-Col. A.E. McBarnett, commanding 2nd Scottish Horse:-

“I heard from his subaltern, who was with him at the time, that his first thought when he fell severely wounded was for the safety of his men, and he refused to allow himself to be moved from where he lay under heavy fire until all his men were in a position of safety.”

(3) From 2nd Lieut. John B Rodger, 2nd Scottish Horse:-

“I was with him the night he was wounded, and if ever I want an example of pluck and endurance I shall always think of him then. With his thigh broken, and wounded as he was, his only thought was the safety of the men. Owing to his thoughtfulness we were fortunate enough to have no more casualties for a very considerable time- in fact, until we had nearly finished operations, which were completely successful.”

–

Two of his brothers had already given their lives in the war- Lieut. Col. Walter L. Loring, commanding 2nd Royal Warwickshire Regt., and Major C. B. Loring, 37th Lancers, Indian Army- both killed in action while leading attacks.

William Loring married Mary Theodosia, daughter of his Eton tutor, the Rev. F St. J. Thackeray, and left a son, John Henry Loring, who went to Eton in 1920.

-o-

 

William Loring’s grandson, David, has been developing a very significant web-resource publishing and transcribing hitherto private letters and documentation surrounding the First Warden’s life, service and death at Gallipoli in 1915.

The Loring family donated these documents to Goldsmiths Special Collections and Archives so that they are permanently preserved in the College library for research and commemoration.

David Loring’s website in scanning the original letters reveal very poignant and moving accounts of William Loring’s courage and leadership on the battlefield as well as the very last letter he wrote to his wife Theo on the day of the amputation of his leg and death from gangrene transcribed above.

There is also correspondence from the Hospital Ship’s chaplain and Nurse Sister who witnessed his last moments.

The online resource offers the remarkable account of what happened to Captain Loring when he was wounded and how he insisted on soldiers being cared for before him was sent to his widow, Theo, from Private W. Coulter.

‘Postcards from Gallipoli’- 19th October 2015. Goldsmiths, University of London remembers its First Warden.

Sources and References.

Creswicke, Louis, South Africa and the Transvaal War: Lord Kitchener and The Guerilla War, Volume 7, London: Caxton Publishing, (1902).

Dymond, Dorothy ed., The Forge: The History of Goldsmiths’ College 1905-1955, London: Methen & Co. Ltd., (1955).

Firth, A.E., Goldsmiths’ College: A Centenary Account, London: The Athlone Press, (1991).

The Archives of Goldsmiths, University of London.

Special thanks to Alice Measom, Archivist, Library and succeeding Special Collections staff Lesley Ruthven and Dr. Alex du Toit.

The National Archives, WO128. Imperial Yeomanry, Soldiers’ Documents, South African War.

The National Archives, WO372/12, William Loring, Captain, Scottish Horse.

The National Archives, WO128/0027-141, Loring, William.

The National Archives, WO 95/4293,

War Diaries of The Scottish Horse, Gallipoli, Dardanelles, 1915.

Ruvigny et Raineval, Melville Henry Massue, marquis de, De Ruvigny’s Roll of Honour 1914-1918 in 5 volumes, Uckfield, England: Naval & Military (2003, 1922) pages 205-6.

The Hull Daily Mail 3rd November 1915.

The Liverpool Daily Post 3rd November 1915.

The Dundee Evening Telegraph 4th November 1915.

The Cheshire Chronicle 10th November 1915.

Visit the other excellent resources on Goldsmiths and the Great War

Alex Watson argues the German motivation behind the First World War was love, not hate Telling the stories behind World War One

Commemorated at other sites and war memorials.

Lewisham War Memorials Blackheath,

All Saints Church WW1 War Memorial

Many thanks to the staff of Special Collections and Archives at Goldmiths, University of London including Dr Alexander Du Toit, and staff alumni Pat Loughrey, Ian Pleace and Lesley Ruthven.

The Goldsmiths History Project contributes to the research and writing of the forthcoming That’s So Goldsmiths: A History of Goldsmiths, University of London by Professor Tim Crook.