Category: postcards

  • Higher education postcard: Falmouth University

    Higher education postcard: Falmouth University

    Falmouth is a long way from nearly everywhere else, if you’re travelling by land. This is a very salient fact. It means that if you’re in Falmouth, then Falmouth is where you first look for anything.

    And so the Falmouth School of Art, which looks to have started sometime in 1867 or 1868, must have been very welcome to the town and the county.

    The classes, which had been held in the municipal offices as part of a school of art and science, had outgrown their space and in 1901 the foundation stone was laid for a new building, in Arwenack Avenue. This would house just the art school.

    The observant amongst you will have noticed by now that the postcard is a general view of Falmouth. This is an occupational hazard when trying to find a #HigherEducationPostcard of an institution in a picturesque place, or one with other famous buildings. It is why, for example, its hard to find a postcard of SOAS, when UCL and Senate House are nearby. But, the card does include Arwenack Avenue, on which the new school was located: it is, I think, somewhere in the red circle in the image below:

    The school was a private venture, and it was not until 1938 that the local education authority took over running the school. (Needless to say, this is a very unusual situation: pretty much all of the other similar schools I’ve looked at were brought into local authority control in the late 1890 or early 1900s.) The school was initially under the control of the principal of the Truro School of Art: not a merger, but one person running two schools.

    In the 1950s the college moved to new premises just up the hill from Arwenack Avenue. This was Kerris Vean, a large house built in 1875. It also had room to expand, and is still part of the university’s Falmouth campus today.

    In the 1960s the school had about 120 students, although many of these were part time. This did not prevent it being accepted (after a reassessment) as a suitable location for the National Advisory Council for Art Education’s diploma in art and design, which was the primary qualification available at that time. Teachers included Barbara Hepworth; the school also conducted entrance examinations for the Slade School at UCL and the Royal College of Art. Staff numbers increased to 25, and more space was provided by the local education authority.

    In the 1970s the CNAA recognised the school for a BA(Hons) in Fine Art. There was now residential accommodation for 57 students. And as anyone who has ever managed an institution with an art school will recognise, this scale was difficult – lots of space, not many students to fill it, a relatively high number of staff, and tight funding.

    The school faced down a threat of closure in 1984, and in 1987 it merged with Cornwall College’s art and design provision to become the Falmouth School of Art and Design. Its range of subjects broadened to include design and journalism, and in 1988 it became a corporation independent of the local authority.

    In 1995, recognising the breadth of its provision, the college became Falmouth College of the Arts, offering degrees validated by University of Plymouth. It became University College Falmouth in 2005; took over Dartington College of Art’s provision in 2008, and in 2012 became Falmouth University.

    Here’s as always, is a jigsaw of the card. The card has not been posted, so I can’t be sure, but I would guess that it dates from the 1960s.

    Why Falmouth University and not the University of Falmouth? I was asked last week whether there was a reason for “University of X” or “X University”. Looking at the legal names of universities in the UK (and some, for example Durham, have a trading name Durham University, and a legal name University of Durham) it seems that the pattern is as follows:

    • The norm is “University of X”
    • In Wales the default in English is “X University”, perhaps to match the preposition-less pattern in Welsh, where, for example, Cardiff University is Prifysgol Caerdydd (but nota bene University of South Wales, not South Wales University)
    • If a university is named after a person or a thing it is “X University” – for example Brunel University
    • If the place name is qualified in some way, it is “X University” – for example Buckinghamshire New University, Birmingham City University
    • If the place is small, it is “X University” – for example Cranfield University, Keele University
    • If the place is a sub-unit of a larger place, it is “X University” – for example Aston University – except when in London – for example University of Greenwich.

    Is this a firm set of rules? Probably not, unless the Privy Council office has some tucked away in a file. Is it universally true? Again, no: and one counterexample to the above is Falmouth University. And this is why I chose to do Falmouth this week.

    Also, notably, when I shared this analysis on social media, the most sensible response was that I was overthinking it. Which was probably true!

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  • Higher education postcard: Peterhouse, Cambridge

    Higher education postcard: Peterhouse, Cambridge

    Greetings from Cambridge! Today we’re looking at a college so old it doesn’t even need to be called “college”.

    Let’s go back to 1280. Edward I, aka Edward Longshanks, was on the throne. England was calm after a period of internal turmoil; part of the reason for this was wars waged against the Welsh and the Scots. And in Ely, Bishop Hugh de Balsham was petitioning the King.

    Successfully, as it turns out. His petition sought permission to evict secular brethren from the Hospital of St John at Cambridge and replace them with “studious scholars”, who would live in accordance with the rules of Merton College in Oxford (hospital meant something different in 1280 – not a medical facility, but guesthouse or almshouse, the hos being the same as in host).

    Clearly this was not entirely satisfactory, as in 1284 Bishop Hugh gained another charter which differentiated these scholars from the other residents of the hospital. Reading between the lines, perhaps the hospital wasn’t entirely happy at having the students in it. In any event, Bishop Hugh obviated whatever problems there were by purchasing two houses and providing for a master and fourteen fellows who must be “worthy but impoverished”. The fellows would worship at the Church of St Peter Without Trumpington Gate, and the college thus became Peterhouse. Not Peterhouse College, by the way – just Peterhouse.

    And it was thus, founded in 1284, the first formal college in Cambridge, although the university had been going for a few years, and with official status since 1231. It had to wait until 1326 for another college to be founded (Clare College, then known as University Hall), and then by 1352 there were six colleges – enough to organise a league table!

    Peterhouse then plodded along. In the maelstrom of Tudor England, its master, Andrew Perne, was skilled at working with the prevailing political and religious opinions. It was said that the letters on the weathervane at St Peters’ Church stood for “Andrew Perne, Protestant”, or “Andrew Perne, Papist”, depending on which way the wind blew. When he was vice chancellor of the university, Perne had the bones of Martin Bucer, prominent protestant theologian and organiser, and later Regius Professor of Divinity, exhumed and burnt in the market square.

    Peterhouse was the second building in England to be lit by electric lighting. William Thomson, Lord Kelvin, was a Peterhouse alumnus, and had them installed in 1884, to celebrate the college’s sexcentenary (the building that had them before was the House of Lords, in 1883).

    Peterhouse admitted women undergraduates in 1984, seven hundred years after its foundation. (Women were admitted to postgraduate study in 1983, but the poetry of the anniversary required me to focus on undergraduates here. Sorry!) It is fair to say that this places it towards the conservative end of Oxbridge colleges. And in this case it is a literal truth.

    Peterhouse became the breeding ground for a generation of right-wing conservative politicians, including the Michaels Howard and Portillo. This is connected to the appointment of Maurice Cowling and Roger Scruton as fellows of the college. The former’s student followers included one who, allegedly, wore a black armband on the anniversary of General Franco’s death.

    Peterhouse’s catalogue of alumni includes some very impressive names. Thomas Grey, poet and country-churchyard elegist is one. And then scientists: we’ve seen Lord Kelvin, physicist and mathematician; you can also have James Clark Maxwell, father of electromagnetism. And then add Frank Whittle of the jet engine, and James Mason, of more great films than you can shake a stick at. Five Nobel laureates are associated with Peterhouse, all of them in Chemistry, in 1952, 1962, 1962, 1982 and 2013. Which must be some sort of a record. And maybe scope for a song: “it’s lucky for Peterhouse when the year ends in two.”

    We should also note that Peterhouse is potentially an inspiration for the college in Porterhouse Blue, Tom Sharpe’s fairly scabrous look at Cambridge life and politics.

    And finally, a snippet from the Illustrated London News on 25 May 1968, announcing the appointment of a new master at Peterhouse.

    In this context, there’s nothing particularly noteworthy about Dr Burkill – I just think it is striking that the appointment of a head of college was then considered newsworthy.

    Here’s a jigsaw of the postcard. It was posted in Ipswich on 15 September 1905 to Miss E Parfit of Handford Road, Ipswich:

    Dear Ethel, Hope you will like this. With love from V.R.

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  • Higher education postcard: Queen Mary University of London

    Higher education postcard: Queen Mary University of London

    Down on the Mile End Road in London, within the sound of Bow bells (and hence properly Cockney) you will find what used to be the People’s Palace, and is now Queen Mary University of London.

    The institution we see today has four antecedents: the medical schools at the London and at St Bartholomew’s hospitals, Westfield College, and Queen Mary College. The name which survives is that of the last-founded college: as this is also the largest campus by far, it does confirm that possession is nine-tenths of the law.

    The medical schools were the earliest to be founded: the London Hospital Medical College in 1785 and St Bartholomew’s Hospital Medical College in 1843 (although a lecture theatre had been in place in Barts since 1791). I’ve told a little of the story of medical education in London when I wrote about St George’s. At the end of the eighteenth century and into the nineteenth, hospitals were slowly putting medical education on a more formal footing, and the London Hospital was at the forefront.

    Next to come on the scene was Westfield College. Established in 1882, Westfield was a residential college for women. I’ve written about it before for Wonkhe, so for now I’ll keep the focus on the East End.

    And on 14 May 1887 Queen Victoria formally opened the People’s Palace on the Mile End Road. The picture below, from the Illustrated London News, shows the Great Hall, which was the only element which had been completed at the time. It had a capacity for 2000 people seated, and was most magnificent.

    The People’s Palace would host art exhibitions and concerts, and would have library and reading rooms, gardens and a swimming pool. Associated with it was a technical institute which would teach higher skills associated with East London’s industries and crafts. The technical institute was to be funded by the Draper’s Company; the People’s Palace was built following public subscriptions, much of it coming from the great and the good.

    (This, by the way, was the model for the technical and recreative institutes founded in south London soon thereafter, and which I wrote about in relation to London South Bank University.)

    In 1896 the People’s Palace Technical Schools became East London Technical College. I can’t be certain about this, but I imagine it had by that time been taken over by the relevant London borough, following enabling legislation in the early 1890s. It was by then supporting people studying for the civil service entrance examinations, and also for the University of London’s BSc degree examinations. The first students graduated early in the twentieth century.

    On 17 May 1907 the Morning Post reported that

    The East London College has been admitted by the Senate as a school of the University [of London] in the Faculties of Arts, Science, and Engineering for period of three years on the understanding that the governing body of the school shall do their utmost to satisfy the Senate upon certain points of educational organisation and finance.

    You’ll spot the associated name change – and this also gives us an earliest date for the picture on the postcard (look at the sign!).

    In 1910 the membership of the university was renewed for a further five years, and in 1915 granted without time limit. East London College was properly a school of the University of London. It was strong in science and engineering, particularly in aeronautical engineering. It had a wind tunnel – which was very new technology then – and was the first department of aeronautical engineering in the UK.

    The 1930s became a little exciting for the college, for good reasons and bad.

    The bad reason was a fire in the early hours of Wednesday 25 February 1931, which destroyed the Great Hall of the People’s Palace. So the illustration from 1897 is, sadly, all you’ll get of this today.

    But at a similar time, the college was considering seeking a royal charter, and it looks like the fire crystallised things. The Drapers’ Company facilitated the People’s Palace and the college becoming a single corporate body, and in 1934 a royal charter was granted. This was also the occasion for a change of name. East London College being felt by some, apparently, to be a bit déclassé. And so Queen Mary College – named for the then Queen, Mary of Teck – was born on 12 December 1934.

    And on 13 February 1937 the rebuilt People’s Palace was opened by the new King George VI and Queen Elizabeth (who most readers will know of better as the late Queen Mother.) The full-page spread from the Illustrated London News below gives some of the flavour. I wonder whether this was part of a post-abdication-crisis public relations push to ensure that the new King was perceived in a positive light? The tale of Margaret Paxton, who gave flowers to the Queen, and was descended from the child who gave flowers to Queen Victoria in 1897, is a publicist’s dream, and will no doubt have taken a bit of work to manage.

    Through the following decades Queen Mary College was forging links with the two medical schools – for example, a joint hall of residence was opened in Woodford in 1974. Further changes happened in the 1980s – firstly some changes to provision, when the University of London reshuffled. Queen Mary lost Classics and Russian, but gained lab science subjects from Westfield, Chelsea, Queen Elizabeth and Bedford colleges. This was only a precursor to the larger changes to come: in 1989 Westfield College merged with Queen Mary, which became Queen Mary and Westfield College. The merged college was based on the Mile End and associated campuses – the Westfield College buildings were sold off.

    Ten years later the two medical schools merged with the college to form the Barts and the London School of Medicine and Dentistry. This was simply one part of a general rationalisation of medical education in London which saw the small independent schools brought within the ambit of larger institutions.

    Let’s add a couple of things to bring the story up to date.

    Firstly, in 2012 Queen Mary joined the Russell Group, along with three other universities (pop quiz – without googling, can you name the other three?). It’s an unusual Russell Group in that its entry profile is much more reflective of its neighbourhood. It continues to do good things for the east London population.

    Secondly, in 2013 it formally changed its name from Queen Mary and Westfield College to Queen Mary, University of London. Which is tricky for dinosaurs like me who still think of it as QMW (and while were at it, Royal Holloway continues in my head to be RHBNC). But I will need to learn to deal with modernity as it approaches.

    The college has a good site on its history if you want to read more.

    Nine Nobel prize winners are connected with the college: six in physiology or medicine, one each in literature and physics, and one winner of the Nobel peace prize (pop quiz part two: again without googling, can you name the peace prize winner? I met them once…)

    And finally, here’s a jigsaw of the postcard. The card was written and posted, but it seems to have been stuck in an album or scrap-book at some point so the back is half covered in the remnants of brown paper. Anyway, it was posted at Paddington to an address in the Regent’s Park neighbourhood of London. All I can make of the written message is

    …before I left. I will certainly call and see you one day. I am not going ‘til next Tuesday…

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  • Higher education postcard: the University of Hertfordshire

    Higher education postcard: the University of Hertfordshire

    Greetings from Hatfield!

    This week’s blog come full of post-war scientific and technological optimism. We begin in 1944: Alan Butler, chairman of the de Havilland Aircraft Company, offered 90 acres to the Hertfordshire County Council for a technical college. De Havilland was based in Hatfield, and was one of the big names in aeronautical engineering and manufacture. (The world’s first commercial jet airliner – the de Havilland Comet – first flew in 1949. If you’d like to lament the apparent loss of Britain’s expertise and ambition, you may do so here.)

    The county council accepted, and in 1949 Dr Chapman, erstwhile principal of Stafford Technical College, was appointed as the first principal of the Hatfield Technical College.

    The image below and the snippet are both taken from The Sphere of 2 April 1949 and show that planning and construction were proceeding apace, and that modern, flexible, college accommodation was being built.

    In 1952 the college opened. Formally, by the Duke of Edinburgh in December; practically, I imagine it was September for new students. And in that first year over 1,700 students enrolled. The vast majority were part-time or evening students; a small number – 55 – were full-time or on sandwich courses.

    In 1956 the college offered a short course in computing – the first at the college – on “the application of computers to automation”. (The first transistorised computer had been developed at the University of Manchester only three years previously, so this was good advanced stuff.)

    By the end of the decade students could not only gain technical qualifications but also degrees, via the University of London’s external system. The first such students graduated with BSc(Eng) degrees in 1958.

    The 1960s saw much change and development. The college was renamed as the Hatfield College of Technology in 1960, following the government’s review of technical education. The colleges of technology were a counterpart to the colleges of advanced technology – like Aston, Bath and Brunel – which became universities in 1966. A digital computer was bought in 1962, costing more than £29,000 – almost £550k in today’s money.

    By 1965 the Council for National Academic Awards (CNAA) had been established, and thirteen programmes at Hatfield College of Technology were recognised as honours degree courses. The college was well-placed to become Hatfield Polytechnic in 1969.

    A campus was added in 1967, at Bayfordbury; in 1970 an observatory was built here. Also in 1070, a computer centre was opened, which was, apparently, the best equipped facility in public sector education in the country. It housed a DEC PDP-10, which is just the sort of mainframe that you see in 1970s futuristic sci-fi. And the polytechnic paid £256,500 for it, which is about £3.5 million today: this was a poly that knew how to invest.

    Two local colleges of education were incorporated, in line with then policy to merge local authority provision – these were the Balls Park and Wall Hall teacher training colleges.

    By 1988 the poly was one of those accredited by the CNAA, which gave it much more direct responsibility for the curriculum, quality and standards of its own degrees. This wasn’t universally done: only 21 polytechnics were so designated. It was also one of only eight polytechnics accredited for research degrees.

    When polytechnics became universities in 1992, Hatfield Polytechnic became the University of Hertfordshire. The Hertfordshire College of Health Care and Nursing Studies and the Barnet College of Nursing and Midwifery were incorporated into the university in 1993.

    Here are a couple of factoids about the university:

    The university runs a bus company – UnoBus – which originally served to shuttle students between campuses but grew and now operates public bus services across Hertfordshire and some surrounding countries. This is a very different to the sort of companies which normally emerge from universities!

    The university also hosted what is thought to be the longest exposure photograph ever. Artist Regina Valkenborgh was studying for a master’s degree at the university and installed a rudimentary pinhole camera – a beer can with photographic paper inside – on the observatory dome. Eight years later the can was retrieved. You can read more about the story here; and see the extraordinary image here.

    And finally, as is now customary, here’s a jigsaw of the card. This was posted on 7 August 1957 to an address in Salies-de-Béarn, near Biarritz, France. And, very exotically and excitingly, is written in French. I don’t speak much French at all, but it looks like the sender was an exchange student staying with a family in Hatfield.

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  • Higher education postcard: Keble College, Oxford

    Higher education postcard: Keble College, Oxford

    Greetings from Oxford!

    Let me start with an uncontroversial statement: the nineteenth century was very different to the current century. As L P Hartley had it, “the past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”

    One thing going on in that century was a reform movement within Anglicanism. The Tractarians, also known as the Oxford Movement (so called because it was centred upon Oxford) was a group of Anglicans who sought to move the Church of England closer to Roman Catholicism on some matters (yes, I know this is very simplified version). Among the leading figures – alongside John Henry Newman, now St John Newman – was John Keble.

    But religious controversy wasn’t the only thing on Oxford’s mind. Substantial reform of the university was under way, with changes to governance, a reduction of influence of the church, and a recognition of the need to widen access, to use the modern term. One avenue being explored was the creation of a new, more affordable, college. The committee working on this included Professor Pusey, a fellow Tractarian. He showed the plans to Keble, who was very much in favour. And then Keble died.

    His friends discussed what to do in tribute, and decided, as you do, that founding the college which Pusey had been discussing was the right thing. And so an appeal was launched, funds were raised, and the project progressed.

    It’s worth noting that this was a new model for Oxbridge colleges: previously colleges were endowed by a rich patron – monarch, noble, church – but this was Victorian crowdfunding in action. And it was a model which possibly influenced the fundraising models for the new universities and colleges which followed soon after. For example, Bangor, the public subscription for which raised £12,000.

    The college opened to new students in 1870. It hasn’t been without its critics – St John’s students formed a society to dismantle Keble which has, to date, been ineffective in its aims. Its distinctive buildings have been the source of much comment. They’ve been called “a dinosaur in a fair isle sweater” (which, to be fair, is a sight most of us would pay to see.) Apocryphally, a French visitor is reputed to have said “C’est magnifique, mais ce n’est pas la gare?” (I think the station is in fact about half a league away).

    The college really did seek to make life economical for its students. Its buildings contained student rooms on corridors rather than via staircases, which was, apparently, a saving. I guess staircases contained suites rather than single rooms? I am honestly not sure what to make of this claim. I’ve also seen it claimed that the corridors made it easier for visitors to be supervised, which seems more plausible.

    Another saving came in 1871, when Keble issued its own stamps, allowing students to send mail – only within Oxford, presumably – via the college porters. This was copied at a few other Oxford and Cambridge colleges, until in 1885 the Post Office decided that this infringed on its monopoly and insisted that the service cease.

    Keble is now one of the larger of the Oxford colleges, with about 1000 students all told. Famous alumni include Ed Balls, the former Chancellor of the Exchequer and celebrity self-searcher on Twitter. Another is Imran Khan, who has been both a wonderful cricketer and a Prime Minister of Pakistan. Howzat for a career?

    Here’s a jigsaw of the card. It was posted on 29 September 1914 to a Mrs Wood in Southampton.

    As best as I can tell, the card reads:

    Dear M + F [Mother and Father?], Arrived quite safe at Oxford. I am enjoying our long [????]. We proceed to Basingstoke [?] tomorrow. Will write a letter as soon as we reach Portsmouth. Will

    And in inserts “This is the College where we are staying (what)” and “We don’t remember the old place”.

    I am tempted to think that the card was sent as Will Wood stayed overnight as part of a military detachment on their way to Portsmouth for the continent, but I haven’t got anything other than the date of the card and one reading of its content to back that up. “C” Company of the No. 4 Officer Cadet Battalion was hosted at Keble College during the First World War, but the college’s archives hold no records of this before 1916. So I suspect speculation is all we have here.

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  • Higher education postcard: Totley Hall Training College

    Higher education postcard: Totley Hall Training College

    Back in 1943 the UK government knew that more school teachers would be needed. The school leaving age was to be raised: this and other planned changes meant that 70,000 extra teachers would be needed over the coming years. The teacher training colleges then in place trained 7,000 a year, so there was a problem.

    The solution? Emergency Training Colleges. A compressed curriculum was piloted at Goldsmiths College, and in five years about 50 such colleges produced about 35,000 teachers. But it was a short-term scheme, and many of the colleges were wound up after 1950 or 1951.

    Nevertheless, there continued to be a need to grow base capacity to train teachers. The emergency colleges had dealt with the immediate shortfall, but with more children attending schools every year, there was still work to be done. Some of the emergency colleges became regular training colleges, and some local authorities established new colleges of their own. And this is where Totley Hall enters the stage.

    Not shown on the card is Totley Hall, built in 1623 and in 1949 passed to Sheffield Council. This was to be the heart of a new training college – the Totley Hall Training College of Housecraft. Its mission: training domestic science teachers.

    There’s a wonderful account of the college’s foundation and development, written by Anna Baldry, who was one of the first lecturers at the college. It’s well worth a read. Highlights include her nerves at interview; problems with electricity blackouts; HMI inspections; the admission of men; its opening by Violet Attlee; and some lovely photographs.

    More prosaically, the college had by 1963 become the plain Totley Hall Training College, focusing on training primary teachers. In 1967 men were admitted; in 1969 the best students could continue to study for a fourth year to gain a Bachelor of Education (BEd) degree from the University of Sheffield, rather than the Certificate in Education. And in 1972 – there being simultaneous vacancies in the principalships – Totley Hall Training College and the nearby Thornbridge Hall Training College were merged, to form the Totley/Thornbridge College of Education.

    In 1976 the College became part of Sheffield Polytechnic, which was renamed Sheffield City Polytechnic – and this in turn became Sheffield Hallam University in 1992, and I’ve written about it here.

    Here’s a jigsaw of the card.

    The card was posted, but I can’t read the postmark, so don’t know when. The 3p stamp shows it was after decimalisation. If it was in 1971 or 1972 it was sent first class; if it was 1973 it was sent second class. Those are the only options for that stamp.

    An engagement? A wedding? A pools win? A baby? What do we think?

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  • Higher education postcard: London South Bank University

    Higher education postcard: London South Bank University

    On 12 May 1888 the London Evening Standard reported as follows:

    A meeting is to be held at the Mansion House at twelve o’clock, on June 8, to consider the projected South London Polytechnic Institutes. It is stated that Lord Salisbury, Lord Rosebery, and Sir Lyon Playfair have agreed to be present in order to lend their support to the scheme.

    We’ve met Sir Lyon Playfair before – sometime secretary to the Department of Science, he advised on the question of a maritime school for Southampton, which ultimately became Southampton Solent University. Lord Rosebery and Lord Salisbury were both eminent politicians, Salisbury a Tory, Rosebery a Liberal. In 1888 Salisbury was Prime Minister. Rosebery would be Prime Minister soon too – he succeeded Gladstone in 1894, the following year being replaced himself by Salisbury. Clearly the support of these figures was significant. But what was going on?

    Enter Mr Edric Bayley. Bayley was a solicitor living in Southwark: partner at a local practice, he was becoming a man of some substance. In 1892 and 1895 he was elected as a member of the London County Council, representing Southwark West for the Progressive Party. Prior to that, in 1887, he had established a group – the South London Polytechnic Institutes Council or, in some accounts, Committee. This sought to use funds under the control of the Charity Commissioners to create technical and recreative institutes in New Cross, Borough and Battersea. This seems to have been the scheme referred to in the Evening Standard article. In 1888 the Charity Commissioners agreed to match funds up to £150,000 for this scheme. And do the game was most definitely afoot.

    The New Cross institute became Goldsmiths College; the Battersea one became Battersea Polytechnic and in due course the University of Surrey.

    The Borough story goes like this. In 1890, anticipating success, buildings were purchased: these had previously been the base of the British and Foreign School Society; the South London Polytechnic Institutes (Borough Road Site) Act 1890 authorised the purchase. In 1891 sufficient funds had been raised to proceed with the overall scheme, and an act of Parliament passed to create a legal basis for the new institutions. And in 1892 Lord Rosebery opened the polytechnic. His speech was notable for suggesting that by forbidding smoking in the new polytechnic, they would be unable to compete favourably with public houses. And that the structures against dancing and dramatic performances similarly might be too severe.

    It’s worth looking at this extract from his speech – reported in The Globe of Friday 30 September 1892. Not only because it gives a lovely flavour of Rosebery’s speech-making, but also for the slight hint, maybe, of Johnsonian populism.

    The polytechnic was a technical and recreative institute, which means that as well as technical courses, it also had a gymnasium, and offered facilities for clubs and so on. Obviously as long as they weren’t dramatic or involved dancing. The model was the People’s Palace in the east end, which became Queen Mary College. And that’s a story for another time.

    And so the Borough Polytechnic Institute started to do what it did, which was to educate people. Very successfully too, with the National Bakery School, for example, being an early innovation.

    In 1970 the Borough Polytechnic Institute became the Polytechnic of the South Bank, and incorporated a number of other institutions: the Brixton School of Building, the City of Westminster College, and the National College of Heating, Ventilating, Refrigeration and Fan Engineering. In 1975, when education colleges were being brought into existing HEIs, the Battersea College of Education and some of the provision at Rachel MacMillan College of Education joined the polytechnic.

    In 1987 the polytechnic shuffled its name, becoming the South Bank Polytechnic. In 1992 it became South Bank University and in 2003 it became London South Bank University.

    Finally, here’s a jigsaw of the card. It’s unposted, which means I can’t be sure of the date, but it looks to be pre-World War One.

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  • Higher education postcard: Ashridge | Wonkhe

    Higher education postcard: Ashridge | Wonkhe

    We looked a few weeks ago at Philip Stott College; this week we’ll go to the Bonar Law Memorial College, its rival and successor, and see what happened there.

    Earlier in my career, when I worked at what is now City St George’s, I was obliged to visit Ashridge in my official capacity. A magnificent stone building, with wonderful medieval fireplaces and mullioned windows; the childhood home of Elizabeth I, rich in history.

    Except, of course, that Ashridge House was built in the early nineteenth century. All of that history took place at Ashridge Priory, which stood on the same site but was demolished in 1803. And Ashridge House is now grade I listed, with its grounds grade 2 listed. It’s a fake, but it’s a glorious fake.

    It was built under the auspices of John Egerton, 7th Earl of Bridgewater. He was a descendent of Thomas Egerton, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal and Lord Chancellor of Elizabeth I and James VI and I, and also of Francis Egerton, 3rd Duke of Bridgewater and a canal magnate. And when complete it eventually passed into the Brownlow family, who in 1921 sold the house and the grounds to the National Trust.

    It was bought by Urban H Broughton. Broughton was a civil engineer, who in 1884 went to the USA to promote a hydro-pneumatic sewerage system. He clearly did well there, promoting the system at the 1893 World Fair in Chicago, and in 1895 being hired by oil tycoon Henry Rogers to instal the system in his home community. And there he met Cara Leland Duff, Rogers’ widowed daughter. Sparks flew; they married. And, years later, he returned to Britain with his family, a rich man. He became a personage in society, a Conservative MP, and he was just about to be ennobled when he died.

    Before he did this, however, he gave Ashridge House to the Conservative Party to be used as a staff college.

    And so the Bonar Law Memorial College was born. Its original trustees were a roll-call of the Conservative party’s great and good: Stanley Baldwin MP, John Colin Campbell Davidson MP, Baron Fairhaven, John William Beaumont Pease, Viscount Hailsham, Neville Chamberlain MP, Viscount Astor, Col. John Buchan (he of The Thirty-Nine Steps), Viscountess Bridgeman, and Lady Greenwood, amongst others. The Leader and Chaiman [sic] of the Conservative and Unionist Party were trustees ex officio. It was named for Andrew Bonar Law, Prime Minister from 1922 to 1923.

    The Bonar Law Memorial College opened in 1929; it became known as a college of citizenship. During WW2 it was used as a field hospital. And it seems that its time as a Conservative college was not without tensions between the Conservative party and the college. Which is probably inevitable: the periodicity of vicissitudes in politics is, I claim, shorter than the periodicity of change in ideas and curricula.

    By 1954 the political nature of the college was coming to an end. By an Act of Parliament – the Ashridge (Bonar Law Memorial) Trust Act 1954 – the college became non-partisan, and known as the Ashridge Management College. It seems that the charitable aims were focused on the UK and the Commonwealth, meaning that the Ashridge (Bonar Law Memorial) Trust Act 1983 was necessary to enable the college to recruit students from countries outside the Commonwealth.

    In the 1990s Ashridge was validated by City University – which was how I got to go there – but then gained its own degree awarding powers. And rightly so. In 2015 it became part of Hult International Business School and now hosts executive education.

    The card is undated and unposted but judging by the cars parks out front I would guess stems from the 1950s, after it had become Ashridge. Here’s a jigsaw of the card – it’s a really tricky one this week!

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  • Higher education postcard: the Sorbonne

    Higher education postcard: the Sorbonne

    The Sorbonne is undoubtedly one of the most recognised university names in the world. But to what does it refer? Well, there’s a story. Consider this a first instalment – there’s more than I can do justice to in one post.

    Let’s go back to twelfth century Paris. The cathedral of Saint Etienne (which was near to what is now Notre Dame) had a school attached. And associated with this cathedral school in 1150 or thereabouts was a collective of teachers and students, organising themselves in the way that medieval teachers and students did. One Lotario de’ Conti di Segni completed his studies there in 1182, and in 1200 King Philip II issued a charter declaring it a universitas. In 1215 Lotario de’ Conti di Segni, who by now was Pope Innocent III, also recognised it.

    The university was organised into four faculties: arts, medicine, law and theology. Students had to graduate in the faculty of arts before they could begin study in any of the other faculties. Was this an early example of a foundation course, or was it the first stirrings of the STEAM agenda? Discuss.

    The university also had some colleges, like Oxbridge – by 1305 there was the College of the Eighteen, the College of the Sorbonne, and the College of Navarre. The College of the Sorbonne was founded in 1257 by Robert de Sorbon, chaplain to King Louis IX, focusing on theology. Students were also organised into nations, depending on their nationality, and these nations also provided accommodation: nation and college seemed like overlapping concepts.

    And for the next few hundred years the university did what universities do, going through ups and downs with good and bad relationships with kings and emperors and popes. A highlight: when the Spanish invaded during the reign of Louis XIV, crossing the Somme and threatening Paris, the university agreed to award the Master of Arts degrees without further ado to any scholar who presented a certificate of service in the King’s army. Academic standards, you see.

    And then came 1793, and the mother of all upheavals: the French Revolution. On 15 September the National Convention decreed that education beyond primary level was to be organised differently, and by 1 November the universities were no more.

    If this were a TV miniseries, this point is definitely the cliffhanger. What will happen next? Well, a LOT of history happened in the next few years, but for the purpose of this blog, we’ll skip to the start of the next season. Napoleon Bonaparte, in 1806, re-established the University of France with a single faculty. (All staff, I think, were members of this faculty and working in a particular site. But I may be wrong. France is very different, and very confusing. Vive le difference!) And in 1808 expanded this to have five faculties.

    And as France had new republics, so it seems that France made tweaks to its university system, of which Paris and the Sorbonne was a part. So in 1870 the number of faculties was again changed, and the types degrees students could get and the curriculum for them. Women were admitted from the 1860s onwards (which is about fifteen years ahead of the UK).

    In 1968 France almost had another revolution. Unrest started in universities, as students firstly complained about the failure of the state to provide enough good quality spaces as universities expanded. The protests then expanded to become anti-Vietnam war and generally anti-government protests. Workers joined in – nine million were on strike by 22 May 1968. De Gaulle called a referendum, the striking workers and students burned the Paris Bourse. De Gaulle fled to a military base in Germany, but returned when assured of military support, and slowly the individual strikes were broken up.

    By 1970 De Gaulle had increased his majority at a general election, and the government dissolved the University of Paris. It was broken up into thirteen universities – which is why you see places referred to as Paris 3, or Paris 11 and so on. Professors were, it seems, allowed to choose the university they were assigned to. The Sorbonne became Paris IV, which later merged with Paris VI (Pierre and Marie Curie University) to become the Sorbonne University, and also now includes INSEAD.

    And this is where the question, to what does the Sorbonne refer, becomes real. In addition to the Sorbonne University (Paris IV and VI), it might mean (if you look at the Wikipedia disambiguation page):

    • the building which housed the Sorbonne, and is now used by multiple universities
    • the Sorbonne chapel
    • the University of Paris up to 1970
    • the chancellery of the Sorbonne, which administers the Sorbonne estate
    • Panthéon-Sorbonne University (Paris I)
    • Sorbonne Nouvelle University
    • Sorbonne Paris North Université (Paris XIII)
    • Sorbonne-Assas International Law School (Paris II)

    As I say, they do things differently in France. And it is confusing.

    The card itself was not sent, but looks to date from the 1910s or 1920s, and is evidently in a biology lab. Here’s a jigsaw of the card – enjoy!

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  • Higher education postcard: Warsash Maritime School

    Higher education postcard: Warsash Maritime School

    Ahoy there!

    We’ve seen before how the University of Southampton was founded by a bequest from Henry Robinson Hartley. Today we’re going to look at a college which grew out of the university, and then became part of another one.

    Hartley died in 1850, but his bequest was not finally clear of the courts until 1858, and the town could then think how to create the institution he had suggested. The advice of the government was sought, and in April 1859 Professor Lyon Playfair – secretary to the Department of Science – proposed that the new institution should include a school of trade and navigation. His argument was reported in the Hampshire Advertiser on 15 May 1858:

    Did the council listen to this advice? They did not. And so the Hartley Institute – the nascent University of Southampton – did not have a school of navigation.

    Or not yet anyway. In 1909 Captain Gilchrist opened the South of England Navigation School to prepare students for the Board of Trade’s maritime examinations. And in 1932, the school – now known as Gilchrist’s Navigation School – was incorporated into University College Southampton as the Department of Nautical Training. At a celebratory luncheon with the Southampton Master Mariners’ Club, the university college principal Kenneth Vickers said that “it was preposterous to think that a university was going to teach a man his practical job when he got to it.”

    The department taught the theoretical foundations of navigation and seamanship, enabling its students to progress to apprenticeships on merchant vessels and, in due course, to take the exams to become qualified second mates.

    In the second world war the school continued to train sailors for the merchant marine, but also taught for the navies of the allied countries. It moved in 1942 to Warsash, a site further down the Solent, which was shared with a Royal Navy training site teaching the use of landing craft. (Fun fact: Royal Navy land bases are called HMS – HMS being His Majesty’s Ship. In this case the base was called HMS Tormentor.)

    After the war HMS Tormentor was decommissioned, but its site and buildings were added to the school of navigation. And by the late 1950s new accommodation was built at the school, to replace the WW2 pre-fabs. And it is the design for this that you can see on the card.

    In 1970 the school ceased to be part of the University of Southampton. My guess is that this was related to how technical education was funded: this would have been a move into local authority control. And in 1984 the school merged with the Southampton College of Technology, forming the Southampton Institute of Higher Education. And this in time became what is now Southampton Solent University, but more of that another time.

    The school is now known as the Warsash Maritime Academy, and operates both from a city centre site and, I think, in part still from the waterside site at Warsash. There’s a fabulous site maintained by alumni which includes memories from former students – well worth a browse when you have a little time to spare.

    The card was written and posted on Wednesday 18 May 1966. Very unusually, it is a typed message. A busy senior staff member, perhaps, who had access to secretarial support?

    And here’s a jigsaw of the postcard – I found it a slightly more challenging one this week. Enjoy!

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